


Snow

by JustR



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fluff, M/M, Mentions Of Infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-16 12:13:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3487859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustR/pseuds/JustR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn’s looking for a nice quiet vacation with his family, but an unexpected encounter with a forgotten friend from the past turns his world upside down and helps him learn to trust again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow

**Author's Note:**

> So I hope you'll enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you for the lovely prompts, I had a hard time picking one!
> 
> Also a massive thank you to my beta. You were a delight to work with :).
> 
> And not to forget, the one organising the exchange. Thank you for being so awesome!

_As gentle as feathers, the snow piles high_

_Our world gets rewritten and retraced every time_

_Like fresh plates and clean slates, our future is white_

_Sleeping At Last – Snow_

 

As Zayn takes in the view of the mountains and the lining of fir trees, he can feel his apprehension fading. It’s quite daunting to see the great figures towering over them from the window of their taxi, but he figures once they make it up there, he might actually enjoy it. Enjoying a trip to a ski resort is not something Zayn ever thought he’d do, especially since he’s going to have to spend his Christmas break with possibly no internet, more snow than he ever encountered in his entire life, and close to zero personal space (he has to share a room with his sister Doniya). But he figures if he stays away from the cold, it shouldn’t be too bad. Which, he soon discovers, is easier said than done.

They stop in front of their hotel and when he gets out of the car he’s assaulted by a gust of icy wind, making his teeth chatter. Begrudgingly, Zayn goes back and forth from the lobby to the car since it seems that his sisters have brought an entire store’s worth of clothing with them. When they’re finally all inside, he takes his time to look around.

It’s not particularly fancy, but it’s something. Zayn isn’t sure what he expected, but he wouldn’t mind spending two weeks in here: an advertisement says there’s an indoor pool, a sauna, a hot tub, and more. The rest looks to be fine, but as a college student he isn’t really picky. He’s used to living in a… neglected environment, you could say.

He drags along as much luggage as he can to the front desk, where his parents check in while he watches his sisters bicker over who’s going to get which bed. Zayn has no clue what his room looks like, but he doesn’t really care – as long as it has a bed, he’s fine. Doniya’s idling on the side glaring at her phone, when he sidles over to look over her shoulder.

‘’Any luck?’’ he asks when she pockets her phone with a sigh.

‘’The Wi-Fi seems to be slower than…I don’t know, it’s slow.’’

‘’Still, better than nothing,’’ he argues, tightening his grip on the luggage when his parents motion for them to follow. They all squeeze into the lift, where Zayn takes a moment to close his eyes and take a deep breath. He doesn’t understand how anyone in their right mind would voluntarily go from a cold place to an even colder place, but apparently his parents thought it was a wonderful idea to leave dreary England, only to go to Austria of all places. Well, at least it isn’t raining, just snowing instead. Zayn thinks he prefers the rain.

The lift stops at the fifth floor and they spill out, following their parents like obedient little ducklings. Even if his parents have poor taste in holiday destinations, Zayn has to admit they know how to raise their kids. His little sisters Waliyha and Safaa might annoy him, but they’re still the sweetest girls he knows.

After handing out the keys, his parents tell them to get settled and meet them downstairs in fifteen minutes. Zayn motions for Doniya to open their door and when he trudges into the room he can see two single beds, a small TV, a set of chairs, and a set of doors that lead to a small balcony. He leaves the honour of checking the bathroom to Doniya and immediately dumps the luggage on their beds, sitting down on his afterwards. When she comes out to tell him the bathroom’s alright, he looks around at the pastel coloured walls and wooden accents and decides that maybe he might like it here after all.

 

***

 

Zayn doesn’t care much about unpacking so he’s the first one to head downstairs. His stomach is rumbling and after the long drive from the airport, he could use something to eat. He actually didn’t eat much before they left because he isn’t particularly fond of airplanes and he was afraid of emptying his stomach’s contents on the person seated in front of him. As he gets out of the lift, he keeps his head down to avoid making eye contact with anyone. As well as airplanes, he isn’t that fond of strangers.

It doesn’t take too long for his parents to come down as well, followed by his still bickering sisters. Their discussion has moved from beds to their next activity, and Zayn finds himself listening in on them, although it doesn’t take long before his attention is elsewhere. This time he saunters after his parents, but stops in his tracks as soon as they reach the lobby where a loud shriek pierces the peaceful atmosphere.

It seems to have come from a woman around his mother’s age, with dark brown hair and a very bright, wide smile. Zayn watches confusedly as the woman and his mother envelop each other in a tight hug and when he looks around he sees two other figures at the front desk where the woman came from, backs turned to them. He glances at his father but he’s looking rather distressed himself, so waits for his mother to detach herself and clear up the situation.

‘’Oh Anne, how lovely to see you! How long’s it been?’’ Zayn’s mother asks the woman, who’s apparently called Anne.

‘’About twenty years? Oh my!’’ Anne gushes and lets her eyes wander, until they rest on Zayn. ‘’Is that little Zaynie? He’s gotten so big!’’ Zayn’s unnerved by her wide smile and awkwardly grins back, because for the life of him he can’t remember the woman or why she would know him.

‘’I’m sorry darling, maybe you remember Anne? We were colleagues back in the day,’’ his mother tries to clear up, but Zayn only shakes his head and shrugs. He doesn’t do well with strangers, especially not strangers that apparently aren’t supposed to be strangers. Zayn thinks he can feel a headache coming up.

‘’That’s alright. Maybe he’ll remember Harry? Harry! Come over here,’’ Anne turns around and calls for one of the figures standing by the desk. One of them is tall and lanky with brown curly hair down to his shoulders, legs positioned awkwardly and hands clasped behind his back. The other one is shorter and stockier and Zayn can see his greying hair from here.

The tall one – Harry – turns around first, frowning at his mother, who’s motioning excitedly for him to come over. When he does, Zayn suddenly feels… nervous isn’t the word. He was nervous before when his mother introduced him to Anne, but _this_ feels like he’s auditioning for a major talent show and everything he does and says has to be perfect because his life might depend on it.

‘’This is Zayn, honey. You two were basically attached at the hip! Until we moved, that is,’’ Anne adds the last part somewhat quietly, pushing Harry forward in front of Zayn. Their eyes meet and Zayn wishes he could remember, wishes he had some knowledge of this person standing in front of him, but he doesn’t. What he really doesn’t understand is how he _could_ forget, because Harry has stunning green eyes that seem friendly yet intense. And Zayn is staring, he should _not_ be staring-

‘’Oh, hi. Nice to meet- I mean, see you? Again?’’ Zayn rambles and blushes, jaw tensing when he can hear Doniya snicker behind him. Harry only smiles widely and holds out his hand, which Zayn looks at dumbly before grasping it and giving it a firm shake.

‘’You, too,’’ Harry says before turning away and facing his mother. ‘’You said we were childhood friends? How come I don’t remember?’’ Zayn is slightly saddened by the fact that Harry doesn’t seem to remember either, and this feeling would be confusing, if not for the weird tingly sensation in his stomach he’s sadly familiar with. It’s a bad sign, really. Mostly because his recent love life is not something he likes to think about, since funnily enough love is what it actually seems to be lacking.

‘’Well, you were young and all that. Anyway, I think we should all catch up! Wouldn’t that be nice, Tricia? Too bad Gemma-‘’ Zayn kind of zones out and lets his eyes wander, following the broad planes of Harry’s shoulders, down to the hands clasped behind his back again, and inevitably to… Well, he has a nice bum. That’s when he stops himself, forcing his thoughts to more appropriate places because these are old friends and he can’t _do_ this.

Zayn promised himself, after his last relationship ended badly, that he would take a step back. Keep distance to protect himself, and maybe even others. His last boyfriend broke him by cheating on him and his best friend Liam was left to pick up the pieces.

Some pieces Zayn still finds when he comes across an old memory he thought was long forgotten. They visit him at night, during that moment when you’re not quite asleep or awake: everything’s quiet and your mind is open enough to allow old pictures to flood back in. Most of them are painful and unwelcome and leave Zayn staring at his ceiling until they pass with time.

So he doesn’t always feel like a fully functioning human being, and Harry looks like something Zayn might need, but Zayn isn’t the best judge to say what he does or doesn’t need. That’s how he got here in the first place.

He leaves his emotions and his needs out of it to spare Harry, who might not ever like Zayn _that_ way, and Zayn thinks it’s best if he never finds out.

 

***

 

The first time he catches him alone is when Zayn’s strolling about the little village square. His family is off taking skiing lessons, while he busies himself with the small stands and cute little shops. Zayn absolutely refuses to take part in any activity that could end in him breaking anything, and was just hoping to get some alone time when suddenly there’s a loud voice behind him.

‘’Zayn! Hold up!’’ He freezes in his tracks and turns around to see Harry speeding towards him, wrapped in what looks like a million layers of clothing, looking rather deformed. When he reaches Zayn he’s looking entirely too happy with rosy cheeks and a wide smile.

‘’You wearing your entire suitcase or something?’’ he asks Harry, who pouts and follows Zayn when he starts walking again.

‘’No! It’s just cold outside. You should know, you’re outside.’’

‘’Nothing gets past those keen senses, huh?’’ Zayn quips, stuffing his hands in his pockets to hide the fact that he’s not wearing gloves – which he definitely regrets.

‘’ _Hmpf._ What are you doing?’’ Harry asks, kicking at the snow while walking and looking at their surroundings. There’s nothing very interesting going on.

‘’Walking. What are _you_ doing?’’ Zayn stops when he sees a cute little café. It looks very warm inside, something he decidedly is not.

‘’Are you always this moody?’’

‘’Are you always this obnoxious?’’ Zayn retorts, turning to glare at Harry.

‘’Heeey! I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. Maybe you need some hot cocoa? How about there? It looks nice,’’ Harry says and walks over to the little café Zayn was eyeing to look through the windows. Great, there goes his alone time.

‘’Fine, but I’m not paying for you.’’

‘’Didn’t say you had to. Come on.’’ Harry pulls at his arm and when they’re finally inside, Zayn takes his hands out of his pockets to rub them together. It’s nice and warm inside; not just because of the temperature, but the atmosphere and Christmas decorations make him all fuzzy.

They find a seat by the heating while Zayn watches Harry struggle out of his coat. At first he awkwardly reaches out as if to help, but then quickly sits down, hands folded in his lap. Suddenly he regrets not going for the window seat – at least he could look outside. Now there’s nothing to look at but Harry. Not that he’s bad to look at; he has very nice features, sharp in all the right places. His eyes are always bright and shiny, and his mouth has this curve-

‘’Can I get you anything?’’ A waitress stands next to their table, notepad ready. Zayn clears his throat and is about to tell her his order when Harry speaks up.

‘’Two hot cocoas.’’ Zayn watches the waitress retreat to the bar before looking at Harry. He leans forward on the table, hands clasped together.

‘’Why aren’t you with your family?’’ Zayn asks and notices how Harry flushes, somewhat ducking his head in embarrassment.

‘’I kind of broke my leg last year. Not so fond of skiing anymore,’’ he mumbles. ‘’What’s your excuse?’’

‘’I’m not so fond of danger. If there’s the slightest chance I could get hurt, I’m out.’’ As he says this, Zayn realises it’s not completely true. He doesn’t think he could stay away from Harry, but it’s just a hunch anyway.

Harry laughs and shakes his head. ‘’You better be careful, then. I’ve heard cocoa can be _dangerously_ hot.’’

 

***

 

The next time he sees him, he’s not exactly alone.

Zayn is sitting on his balcony, back against the wall and arms wrapped around his legs. Everything is so very white: the mountains, the buildings, even the sky seems colourless. He’s still baffled by the amount of snow and its beauty. The world looks asleep, and if he wasn’t sitting outside in the cold, he might just fall asleep himself.

Except he’d probably think too much. That’s what he always does. Something keeps his mind occupied at all times, and today that something is Harry. Zayn spent the majority of his day with him, with this annoyingly happy person who’s always asking too many questions and is getting on his nerves. Yet Zayn still enjoys his company and wishes to spend more time with him. If Harry wants to, that is.

Apparently Zayn’s default setting is ‘moody, like someone ran over your dog,’ according to Harry at least. If only Harry knew it’s because Zayn doesn’t want to grow too attached. So far, his plan hasn’t worked.

He can hear a knock at his hotel door, so he quickly gets up and opens it to reveal his parents.

‘’We’re all having dinner together. Are you ready or do you need a minute?’’

‘’Nah, ‘m good to go,’’ Zayn sighs, feeling his pockets for his room key and then follows them to the lift. The ride down is quiet, but it’s welcome after he spent his afternoon getting his ears talked off. He’s surprised they still work. After they make it to the lobby, Zayn’s steps falter when he sees Doniya and Harry laughing over something on Doniya’s phone. They’re in stitches and Zayn’s watching with a heavy feeling in his stomach, his mood already growing sour. When his mother said they’d all be having dinner together, she really meant _all_ of them. Zayn is tempted to turn back around and order room service, but Harry already spotted him and is slowly approaching him.

‘’You never told me how funny your sister is!’’ he starts off, nudging Zayn.

‘’That’s because she’s not,’’ Zayn grunts and follows his parents to the restaurant area.

‘’Still moody, I see.’’

‘’And you’re still obnoxious.’’ Suddenly Zayn feels _tired_. He likes Harry, he really does, but he’s trying to do them both a favour here. If being moody means saving himself from another possible heartbreak, he’ll do it. Even if he’d rather laugh with him, show Harry that he can be funny too. Show him that he’s an amazing person and not some grump who’s adamant on shooting down every friendly gesture sent his way.

Being someone else can be incredibly tiring.

‘’I’ll get you to like me eventually. Just you wait and see!’’ Harry says before he bounds off to join his parents up front.

Little does he know he had Zayn from the very first moment.

 

***

 

He can’t sleep. Zayn is incredibly tired, his limbs so heavy with it that he can’t even lift his head. There’s no guessing what time it is, but it’s still dark outside and he can hear Doniya’s soft snores. Nights like this usually are what cause his sour moods, because as soon as he wakes up, his first thought of the day is _when can I go back to sleep?_ He snaps at people, hopes things will speed up, and generally they do. But then, when he’s finally in bed, he’s left with his thoughts about how much of an ass he’d been that day, and is back where he started.

Zayn is tired, and he can’t sleep.

The next time he opens his eyes, the room is a lot lighter. Lifting his head seems to be less of a problem and when he does so to look at the time, he discovers it’s already nine. Zayn rubs his eyes and yawns. Most days he’d stay in bed and stare at the ceiling for another hour, but he promised himself he wouldn’t waste his time. Not when he could be out and about.

The sound of someone knocking on the door has him sitting upright looking around the room for a sign of his sister. She doesn’t seem to be there, so maybe it’s her knocking? Probably forgot her key. He pushes himself out of bed and groggily walks over to the door, his feet dragging across the carpet. He snatches open the door and freezes, because that’s _not_ his sister.

‘’Good morning!’’ Harry chirps, eyes assessing Zayn in all his glory - sweatpants and a t-shirt (he gets cold at night).

‘’Is it?’’ Zayn counters, leaning his head against the door.

‘’After you’ve had some food, maybe. That’s why I’m here – I was wondering if you wanted to grab breakfast?’’ Zayn blinks at Harry, head trying to wrap around the words. For once the boy actually seems nervous.

‘’I – yeah. But why would _you_ want that?’’ He opens the door a little further, allows Harry to go inside while he starts looking for his shoes.

‘’You’re not such bad company, you know.’’ Harry sits down on Doniya’s bed, which is neatly made, unlike Zayn’s.

‘’What you mean is that everyone’s off skiing and you don’t want to be alone,’’ Zayn offers, tying up the laces of his sneakers.

‘’That’s true, but you’re also not bad company.’’ Zayn bites down on his bottom lip and closes his eyes. His back is turned towards Harry and before he turns around to face him, he takes a deep breath and plasters a smile on his face.

‘’Well alright, then. Breakfast it is.’’

They make it downstairs without saying a word, and when Zayn only orders a cup of coffee, Harry gives him a disapproving look. The silence is growing slightly awkward, but instead Zayn only sips quietly on his coffee after it arrives, trying to ignore the annoyed look Harry’s giving him.

‘’You should eat something,’’ Harry holds out a piece of toast and Zayn shrugs and takes it, slowly chewing on it while he looks at Harry’s tense shoulders.

‘’Are you always this difficult in the morning?’’ Harry asks coolly, wiping some crumbs off his lap. Zayn looks at him a moment longer before nodding.

‘’Can I ask why?’’

Zayn folds his hands and rests his chin on top of them. ‘’I used to like mornings,’’ he confesses, tracing the fabric of the tablecloth. Even if he’s not entirely sure of what he’s saying, he can’t stop himself. Not when it’s true.

‘’Really? What happened?’’ Harry stops eating for a moment, leans forward to give Zayn a soft look. There’s something so familiar in it that it makes Zayn’s chest ache, his throat constricting.

‘’ _Someone_ happened,’’ he breathes, pushing himself away from the table and standing up.

‘’Zayn wh-‘’

‘’I need the bathroom. Excuse me.’’ Zayn rushes away from the table and towards the other end of the restaurant, his eyes trained on the door to the male restroom. He’s not proud of himself for escaping like this, but he needs to breathe. As far as he can see, he’s the only one in there once he pushes open the door, so he puts both hands up against the wall, head hanging between his arms.

There was a time when Zayn was outgoing, when he smiled and laughed and felt like someone up there must like him because he was _happy_. He was still together with his high school sweetheart, going strong for longer than you would expect of two teenagers. Until college happened. Until they weren’t going strong anymore. Until Zayn had to find out that someone up there must hate him because his world had been _shattered_. His world was shattered when he found out his boyfriend at the time was secretly seeing this girl and had been doing so for a long while.

Even if that was more than a year ago, he can remember it like it was yesterday.

 

_There’s a spring in his step. Zayn’s had a good day: got an A on his paper, had his favourite sandwich for lunch, and treated himself with a new set of high-quality pencils, because they were on sale and he couldn’t resist. And now he’s on his way to his boyfriend’s house, well, the one he shares with two other blokes. Zayn never sees them much, but they’re nice enough._

_It takes all of five minutes to get from the train station to the front door, which is ideal. Zayn fumbles for the key Louis gave him and opens the door, letting it fall closed behind him. He doesn’t bother taking off his coat, since he’s planning to take his boyfriend out to a celebratory dinner. Zayn has always been a believer of celebrating the small victories in life._

_It’s awfully quiet in the house and he suspects there’s nobody home, but he still calls for Louis. He looks around him at the bare white walls, waits to see if someone will appear at the top of the stairs or in the doorway leading to the living room and kitchen, and adjusts the strap of his bag on his shoulder. Just as he’s about to look for his phone so he can ring Louis, there’s a voice._

_‘’He left. Should be back any minute.’’ Zayn looks up to see a girl hovering in the doorway. She seems nice, he can see that in her eyes. Her wavy hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and she’s wearing a black dress that looks just a bit too chilly for the late autumn weather, but it’s not like Zayn ever understood girls and their habits._

_‘’Ok.’’ He sends her a small smile. ‘’I’m Zayn, by the way,’’ he introduces himself. Always be polite to strangers, is what his mother taught him._

_‘’Eleanor,’’ she replies, crossing her arms over her chest._

_Zayn looks at her a moment longer before asking: ‘’You with Dan?’’ She shakes her head and leans against the doorframe. ‘’Olly, then?’’ Again, she shakes her head. ‘’I...don’t understand? Are you Lou’s relative?’’_

_‘’What? No! Who are you? I’ve never heard Louis mention a Zayn,’’ she points out, and Zayn is really trying to ignore his suspicions._

_‘’I’m his boyfriend.’’_

_Eleanor’s eyes widen, her expression changing into a mix between sadness and fear. ‘’You’re joking, right? You can’t be.’’_

_‘’Why not?’’ he asks, even if he isn’t sure if he wants to know the answer._

_‘’Because we- I’m his girlfriend.’’_

_And there it is. Such a small sentence, but such a big impact. For a moment, he blacks out. He feels like a glass that’s been knocked over, spilling its contents, and now there’s a strange nothingness expanding inside him._

_‘’For how long?’’ Is the first sentence that manages to slip past his lips._

_‘’A few months,’’ Eleanor replies, her voice small. ‘’How can this be happening?’’_

_Zayn wishes he had the answer, but he’s not sure he knows anything anymore. Then, there’s a rattling of a key, followed by the click of a lock._

_‘’I’m ba- Oh,’’ Louis’ voice echoes through Zayn’s head. He doesn’t want to turn around, looks at a crying Eleanor instead. She’s not looking at Louis, either. There’s a long silence. None of them know what to do._

_‘’Zayn.’’ He turns around at the mention of his name, but not because he really wants to. It’s more of a reflex. A reflex he wishes he didn’t have, since he’s looking at Louis’ face now, but at the same time he isn’t, because he’s not sure if it’s Louis. Not the one he knows. But then again, he doesn’t know anything anymore._

_‘’Was I not good enough?’’ Zayn still has to ask. Wants to know at least this one thing._

_Louis shakes his head. ‘’I’m in love with her,’’ he confesses, eyes trained on the person behind Zayn. There’s an audible gasp, a quick intake of air, which reminds Zayn he needs to breathe. Even if it hurts, if he’s too busy trying to keep himself together long enough._

_‘’So, this is it?’’_

_‘’This is it,’’ Louis confirms, stepping to the side to clear the path to the door. Zayn manages to get his heavy limbs moving, slowly at first, but then as fast as he can. Out the door, no looking back._

_As he’s walking back to the train station, gaze ahead of him, he can feel himself slowly starting to crumble, until there’s nothing left._

 

Right now, Zayn still doesn’t feel whole. Standing in front of the mirror, he tries to see his mistakes. As if they would be etched into his face and tell him what he did wrong. Why he wasn’t good enough. The only answer he’ll ever get is his wide-eyed face staring back at him, unblinking for the fear of missing something. He starts counting in his head, and the seconds go by as he tries not to blink, but then the door opens. And he finally does blink.

‘’Zayn.’’ It’s Harry, his jaw tensing when he looks at Zayn.

‘’Harry, I was about to-‘’

‘’Don’t give me that nonsense. How long were you planning to hide in here? Do you dislike me _that_ much?’’ He looks upset, and Zayn is speechless. There’s an internal battle going on, like a tug of war in his head and he _just can’t decide_.

‘’Fine, don’t say anything. I guess I misunderstood. Goodbye,’’ Harry snaps and storms off, the door to the restroom banging against the wall. Zayn stands there, paralysed. He just needed more time; he can’t help it that he’s moving in slow motion when Harry seems to be a speeding rocket.

He needs more time.

 

***  

 

When his mum asks Zayn why he's so quiet during dinner, he doesn't know what to say. Harry is glaring at him from the other side of their table in the restaurant, stabbing his food angrily when he isn't laughing at something Doniya says. Zayn looks down at his own plate, pushing the remains of his pasta around.

"No reason," he says and smiles, if not a bit too forced. His mother looks at him a moment longer before resuming her conversation with her husband. It seems this was going to be a thing; them eating together with the Styles family. Zayn wouldn't have minded, not if he wasn't receiving death glares from the other side of the table. The boy could be charming, but if you got on his bad side, things turned ugly. Zayn is sorry he had to find out, but also relieved he doesn't have to spend his holiday being mean to the one person he doesn't want to be mean to. It's complicated. Things always are.

"The girls wanted to go ice-skating tomorrow. Maybe you should join them," Zayn's mother suggests quietly.

"Yeah, maybe." Honestly, Zayn dislikes ice-skating nearly as much as skiing, but if it makes his mum happy, he'll at least consider it. She squeezes his hand briefly, and Zayn smiles widely - an honest smile, the one he knows his mother loves seeing because 'his eyes light up like a thousand stars'. His mother is nothing if not sappy, which he likes to tell her all the time. Now is not one of those times. Instead, he squeezes her hand back and nods before going back to playing with his food. Or what's left of it.

When he looks up from his plate because he feels he's being watched, he catches Harry giving him a curious look.

Somehow it's more unsettling than his death glares, because at least Zayn knows the reason behind those.

 

***

 

The next morning he eats breakfast alone. He has chosen a window seat in the back so he can look outside at the sun reflecting off the mountain whenever the clouds part to let it through. It’s early, but a lot of people are already up and about, getting ready for their activities of the day.

Zayn gets ready in his own way. He likes to wake up slowly and quietly, prefers to sit by himself so he can prepare himself mentally for whatever he is planning to do that day. Or he used to. He doesn’t know what changed, but he’s less content with the silence and his mind as his only distraction. It must be this place; it’s messing with his head and he just isn’t himself.

When he looks out the window again and watches the birds circling in the sky, it’s as if something finally settles. It’s time to stop circling around himself and everyone else, because it’s what he always does and it isn’t getting him anywhere.

Before he has time to finish his inner monologue, he catches Doniya from the corner of his eye slowly approaching his table. Zayn frowns when he sees her expression; it’s the one she always has that says ‘you better listen, or else,’ and because he’s a smart lad, he stays silent when she sits down in the chair opposite him.

‘’Stop sulking and come ice-skating with us.’’ She’s always been straight-forward.

‘’I’m not sulking,’’ Zayn protests.

She gives him a disbelieving look. ‘’You _are_ and it’s painful to watch. You’re like a teenager all over again.’’

‘’I’m allowed to sulk," Zayn defends himself. They look at each other for a moment before Doniya nods.

‘’Come ice-skating with us. He’ll be there.’’

‘’Who?’’

‘’Harry, of course.’’ So she’s trying a different tactic. It doesn’t work.

‘’I’ll pass.’’

‘’Fine, enjoy your sulking.’’

‘’I will.’’

As he watches her leave the restaurant, it slowly dawns on him that he's doing it again. He's pulling away out of fear; fear of getting hurt and fear of the unknown. So he looks down at his coffee, pretends it's liquid courage, and downs it in one go.

Zayn gets up from his chair and as he tries to think of how to get to the skating rink, he decides he'll do this his way: slowly.

 

When he does get there it's nearly empty except for families with younger kids that aren't quite ready for skiing yet. It's small, but has a certain charm to it. There's a café attached to the skating rink, separated by a window so you can see what's happening on the ice. Zayn decides to stay there, watches from behind the glass and away from the ice. As soon as he spots them, he feels his heart skip a beat.

Doniya and Waliyha are hand in hand, skating around the rink and chatting while Harry is in the middle with Zayn's youngest sister, Safaa. Harry is trying to spin circles with her, very slowly, to minimise the risk of falling. As Zayn watches fondly, he realises he's not afraid. For some odd reason, he trusts Harry with his sister, who he's otherwise very protective over. Maybe it's the smile on her face, or Harry's stretched out hands, ready to catch her.

So he keeps watching, hands in his pockets and gaze focused on the boy that seems to occupy his mind all the time. There’s a weird tug in his gut when he sees Harry skate over to Doniya, catching her by the shoulders before circling around her so he’s facing her. Zayn can’t hear them from here and isn’t sure if he wants to. He never actually considered the idea of his sister being possible competition. Not that it’s a competition; Harry seems to really like Doniya, and Zayn kind of ruined things for himself.

Zayn is chewing on his bottom lip while trying to think of a way to approach Harry, when he suddenly looks right at him. Their eyes meet for a split second before Zayn turns around and hurries towards the bar. He sits down on a stool with his back to the window, ears burning and head bowed down. He had been caught and must have looked like an absolute creeper.

He politely declines when the barman asks if he wants anything and waits for the inevitable. Why do bad things happen sooner rather than later?

‘’Zayn.’’ It’s Harry’s voice behind him, and miraculously enough he sounds normal.

Zayn turns around on his stool to face Harry. ‘’Hi. Why aren’t you on the ice?’’ Harry shrugs before sitting down on the stool next to him, facing the window. He rests his elbows on the bar and leans back, avoiding Zayn’s gaze carefully.

‘’I saw you watching,’’ Harry starts, glancing at Zayn before continuing. ‘’You’re scared, I get it. Just don’t think me a fool, be honest about it.’’ Zayn knows that the next thing he’s going to say will be important, probably deciding where they go from here, so he waits a moment. He watches Harry’s guarded expression, and decides that if he trusts him with Safaa, he has to trust Harry with himself.

‘’I’m scared,’’ Zayn admits because honesty isn’t such a bad thing to start with.

Harry finally looks at him with a smile tugging at his lips. ‘’Alright, then,’’ Harry sighs and gets up off his stool. ‘’I’ll see you at dinner, and you’re sitting next to me. No excuses.’’ Just like that, Zayn is by himself again. Although this time he’s not exactly alone - he’s got Harry now.

 

***

 

It’s like someone opened a window and he can finally smell fresh air. His head was starting to get stuffy from living in the same setting, from limiting himself to only so many experiences. Up until now, he didn’t realise that ‘protecting himself’ did more damage than good. Zayn is ready for the good. He is _so_ ready, but still scared. Terrified, actually. Wouldn't be him if he wasn't.

They've been here for six days now, and they already have their own little routine.

Zayn has breakfast with Harry, listens to him talk about everything and nothing. It's actually more calming than listening to his own thoughts, and he finds he would rather get out of bed right away so he can escape them sooner. Except for one particular morning.

This morning he wakes up with the sun warming his skin. When he cracks open an eye he sees and hears nothing; Doniya must already be out. The curtains are open and for a moment he's convinced it's summer, because he's sweating and his clothes are sticking to his skin, but then he remembers. Zayn feels his cheeks warm up, flashes of his dream appearing in his head with vivid images of Harry. Images that make his stomach flutter, before the guilt dulls it. Harry is his friend; he can’t be having dreams about him. Still, Zayn wishes he could go back to sleep so he could once more feel Harry under his fingertips.

As he’s debating in his mind whether he should try to go back to sleep, his eyes actually start to droop and before he knows it he’s startled awake by three rapid knocks on the door. The sun hasn’t moved, so Zayn concludes it can’t have been too long. There are three more knocks, causing him to stumble out of bed and towards the door while he pulls at his sweaty shirt that’s sticking to his skin. He is still feeling hot. When he opens the door Harry’s standing there with his fist raised, ready to knock again.

‘’You’re a mess,’’ is the first thing Harry says. Zayn takes a moment, watches Harry slowly lower his fist before shrugging and letting him in.

‘’What time is it?’’ Zayn asks as he goes into the bathroom, leaving the door open.

‘’Well past breakfast time!’’ Zayn looks at himself in the mirror; his hair is sticking in all directions, his clothes are askew and he looks (and smells) like he ran a marathon.

‘’Why did you wait so long?’’ he asks as he shuffles out of the bedroom, pausing when he sees Harry making his bed. ‘’What are you doing?’’

‘’Even if you’re a mess doesn’t mean your room has to be. I waited because I figured you’d appreciate a lie-in. Don told me you’re not a morning person,’’ Harry explains as he brushes the sheets free of crinkles.

‘’She told you? What else did she tell you?’’ Zayn feels sick, because his sister knows things about him and if she’s talking to Harry about those things he doesn’t know what to do. With Harry he has a clean slate, someone that doesn’t really know him yet. Only now it dawns on him that he should appreciate what they have, because Harry looks at him like he’s a person. Not someone that needs to be pitied.

‘’Nothing else, relax. You go take a shower, I’ll wait.’’ Harry sits down on the neatly made bed and pulls out his phone. Zayn watches for a moment, perplexed and still unsure of his next move, before Harry looks up and makes a gesture towards the bathroom. ‘’Chop chop!’’

Zayn quickly gathers some clothes from his suitcase and locks himself in the bathroom. This is odd. He feels odd. First Harry makes his bed and now he’s sitting on said bed, waiting for Zayn to finish taking a shower. Zayn always imagined this situation differently, Zayn taking a shower while Harry was in his room, on his bed. This is not how it was supposed to go.

He’s in and out of the shower in a flash, and tries to pull on his underwear while towelling his hair dry at the same time. He barely manages to steady himself when he catches his foot on the fabric and tumbles forward, knocking some things off the small counter. There’s a knock on the door and Harry’s voice asking him if everything is alright.

‘’I’m good!’’ Zayn takes a deep breath, places his hands on either side of the sink. ‘’I’m good,’’ he mumbles to himself. Truth is, he’s actually a little flustered. Can’t quite get his hands and feet to move right, and when he thinks back to the last time he felt like this, he can’t stop himself from looking in the mirror.

There’s another knock on the door, startling him. He’d been having a staring contest with himself again, but he keeps blinking before he finds the answer.

‘’I could leave if you’re, you know...busy,’’ Harry suggests, and even if he’s standing on the other side of the door, Zayn can imagine the look on his face. It’s a look he gets when he’s trying to be understanding. Harry always tries to give people what they need. He’s a giving person.

‘’No, I’ll be a minute,’’ Zayn calls back, leaving his towel on a rack to dry and quickly getting dressed. When he opens the door Harry’s back on the bed, elbows resting on his knees and hands clasped together. Zayn clears his throat and wipes at a stray droplet running down his cheek from his still somewhat wet hair.

‘’Your hair’s still wet,’’ Harry points out.

Zayn shrugs and crams his hands in his pockets. ‘’So? It’ll dry.’’

‘’It’s freezing outside. You’ll get sick.’’ Harry gets off the bed and Zayn takes a step back when he passes him on the way to the bathroom. He doesn’t know what Harry’s up to, never does. Nothing is sure when he’s with Harry; the boy is unpredictable, spontaneous, and strange. Like he’s been brought up on a different planet with completely different ways of interacting. It’s unsettling and refreshing at the same time.

He comes back out of the bathroom with a smaller, dry towel, and without warning drapes it on Zayn’s head.

‘’Harry.’’ Zayn’s voice is muffled under the towel, and soft, because Harry is now drying his hair with strong, sure movements. He’s scared to move, afraid Harry will stop touching him if he does, but also because he’s blushing and doesn’t want Harry to see. So he exhales deeply and lets his shoulders slump while he waits for Harry to finish.

‘’There, all done.’’ When the towel is removed from his head, he blinks at a smiling Harry. For a moment everything is quiet, and it feels like something might happen. It feels like that moment in which things are supposed to happen, at least. But then Harry steps away and leaves Zayn standing in the bedroom while he goes to hang the towel to dry. Zayn takes another deep breath and tries to hide his disappointment when Harry opens the hotel room door without saying a word.

‘’Would it be bad if I said I fancied a burger?’’ Harry asks as they walk down the hall towards the lift. ‘’I know you might not feel like it since it’s technically your breakfast, but yeah.’’ Zayn gives him a strange look and pushes on the lift button.

‘’If you want to, I guess.’’ He runs a hand through his hair, hoping it looks somewhat decent. The doors slide open after the ‘ding’, and Zayn takes his time to look in the mirrored walls of the lift to see how his hair is doing.

Harry notices and nudges his shoulder. ‘’I like the messy look. Suits you.’’

‘’What are today’s plans?’’ Zayn tries to steer the subject away from himself and does so successfully, because Harry smirks and shrugs. The lift slows to a stop and as they walk out, Zayn keeps his eyes on Harry.

‘’You’ll see, but I suggest you eat something. You’re going to need the energy.’’

Zayn doesn’t like the answer, but he likes Harry, so he decides to go with it anyway.

 

Apart from giving, Harry’s also pushy and persuasive. Never in a million years would Zayn have done this, but here he is; waiting at the skating rink to receive his skates. He follows Harry to the benches and sits down with the skates in his hands, looking at the smooth blades attached to the bottom of them. They’re heavy in his hands, a solid weight that he knows will keep him grounded, but he’s still scared. Of what, he doesn’t know. Falling, maybe.

‘’Need help with those?’’ Harry asks, and before Zayn has the chance to refuse or say anything, he’s down to his knees in front of Zayn and untying his shoelaces. Harry’s doing it again; taking care of him, and suddenly Zayn wishes he had a towel to hide under because he’s embarrassed. He enjoys being taken care of, but not by the person he likes, not like _this_. Not like a mother fawning over her child.

Zayn almost reaches out to push Harry’s hands away, but then he looks up at him. Those green eyes are looking straight through him, with an expression Zayn hasn’t seen on Harry before, and it makes him unable to move. There’s that moment again, like the world has melted around them and nothing else exists anymore. But then Harry is finished tying his laces, and rises to his feet.

‘’I’m scared,’’ Zayn admits. Harry looks surprised at first, but then his expression settles into something soft and he nods.

‘’It’s okay, I’m here. You might fall, but you won’t get hurt.’’

‘’But falling hurts,’’ Zayn argues, testing the new weight of his feet after he stands up.

"It does at first, but the pain is minimal. Trust me." And who is Zayn to ignore Harry's plea? He does trust him, so he nods and gingerly follows him onto the ice. It's his first time, so he clutches the sides of the skating rink and carefully shuffles his feet back and forth.

Zayn is anything but steady and can already feel his muscles cramping from being so tense. It feels foreign, his feet sliding and not staying where he wants them to. Harry is behind him, waiting patiently and giving him time to adjust. When Zayn carefully turns around, Harry’s by his side in the blink of an eye.

"Here." Harry holds out his hands, and Zayn frowns at them before placing his own hands in them. When Harry carefully glides backwards, taking Zayn with him, he feels like his legs might give out from the tension.

"Relax, just follow the movement," Harry encourages him. Zayn takes a deep breath, but he can't really relax. His feet feel like they're moving on their own and he doesn't like it one bit. "You're doing great."

"No I'm not," Zayn pants, feeling sweat prickling at his back. He must look like a right idiot, being dragged along by someone at the speed of a crippled turtle.

"Alright, let's take a break." Harry lets them slide to a stop and Zayn finally straightens his back and exhales. "Zayn, you're crushing my hands," Harry says jokingly, and Zayn's first reaction is to let go. _Bad idea._

He loses his balance for a fraction of a second as his foot slides forward on its own accord. He's not quick enough to correct it, so sends his other foot forward, which makes him topple backwards and fall onto the ice, his bum stinging from the impact and the cold. There's a moment in which he looks up at Harry and gives him a betrayed look, but the boy can't keep in his laughter for long.

"You - _oh God_. I'm so _sorry_ ," Harry wheezes, clutching his stomach. In the meantime, Zayn can feel his ass starting to grow numb. Not that it's such a bad thing.

"I'm just not cut out for this," Zayn sighs and lets his hands fall to his sides. He looks up at a still laughing Harry and cracks a smile, because _okay_ , it must have looked quite funny.

"We were standing still and you just - you should have seen your _face_ ," Harry pants, bending down to help Zayn up. It's very clumsy and for a moment they're _so_ close, he can smell Harry's cologne. He feels dazed and overwhelmed and tries not to inhale too much, just holds onto Harry tightly and lets himself be guided back to the edge of the rink.

Zayn stumbles towards the benches and finally lets his muscles relax as he sits down, shoulders slumping.

"Never again," he mumbles when Harry sits down next to him. Their arms are almost touching.

"I know something better. It only requires you to relax."

From experience, Zayn should probably politely decline and save himself from any possible injuries. His bum still hurts and his muscles are somewhat sore, but when he sees how Harry's looking at him, with his bright eyes and dimpled smile, he can't make himself say no.

"If it doesn't involve ice, I'm sold."

"Don't worry, you'll love it." Harry gets off the bench to help Zayn take off his skates. His touch is light and swift. Gentle is another way to describe Harry, Zayn thinks. Harry's giving, pushy, persuasive, gentle, and also probably completely not thinking of Zayn the way he thinks of him.

Zayn wishes he could fall without getting hurt, but the odds don't seem to be in his favour.

 

***

 

When they make it back to the lobby, shivering from the cold, Doniya’s waiting for them.

"Hey! What are you two up to?" she asks, looking at both boys with a smile. Zayn glances at Harry to see him giving his sister a strange look, accompanied by a small shake of the head. _How odd_ , he thinks.

"You know, I actually wanted to spend some time with my brother." Doniya moves forward to take Zayn's arm, but he quickly pulls back.

"She can join us. Right, Harry?" Zayn suggests quickly. He wants to spend whatever time he has with Harry, even if it means including his sister.

"Fine. Put on a bathing suit or something and meet me back here." As they get on a lift, Zayn can't seem to shake the thought that something is going on between these two, so he decides to keep a close eye on them. The lift doors open, and they part with Harry. His room is a floor above theirs.

As soon as the doors close again, Zayn decides to ask Doniya. "What was that about?"

"What do you mean?" He stands behind her as she opens their hotel door and trudges inside after her.

"In the lobby. Harry was giving you this strange -"

"So you like him?" she interrupts, rummaging in her suitcase.

"What? No!"

"You're adorable," she cooes, and walks off into the bathroom to change. Zayn groans and sinks down on his bed. So his sister knows, and isn't giving him the silent treatment, which means she doesn't like Harry. Not the way he likes him. Even if it's somewhat of a relief, that doesn't mean Harry won't like her. She's a likeable person: cool, sweet, funny, and pretty. Zayn is no match for her.

"Don't worry, little one. I won't steal him from you." Zayn looks up at the old nickname. It's what she used to call him whenever she knew he was worrying too much, usually about school projects. "Now go get changed."

 

***

 

Zayn has to admit this is a much better idea than ice-skating. They are currently chin-deep in a hot tub, the steam rising off the water in billows, occasionally clouding his view. Not many people visit the pool area, because why would they? There are plenty of them where they came from.

Zayn has tuned out the quiet conversation between Harry and his sister in favour of closing his eyes and relaxing his muscles. The hot water certainly is welcome after falling on the ice.

"Zayn?"

His eyes shoot open at the mention of his name. "What?"

"Don't tell me you were falling asleep," Harry teases. "You had plenty of that already." Zayn looks at him, _really_ looks at him this time. Harry's cheeks are flushed, his skin glistening from the water, and even if his curls are sticking to his face, he looks beautiful. All-air-knocked-from-your-lungs beautiful.

"Your brother is acting strange, Don." Zayn blinks a few times and blushes. He tries to pretend he doesn't see Doniya wiggling her eyebrows at him.

"Sorry," he mumbles, staring at his fingers under the water.

"'S fine. We were saying that we should get out before we're all wrinkled." Zayn nods at Harry's words and sits up. He watches the flex of Harry's muscles as he climbs out of the hot tub, his swim shorts clinging to his firm thighs and arse. Zayn almost trips in his effort to climb out after he catches his sister smiling at him.

"It's ok, little brother," she whispers as they leave the pool area wrapped in towels to go back to their rooms. If Zayn could smack himself without looking like a fool, he would. He trails behind Doniya and Harry to give himself some space, focusing on the sound his flip-flops make instead of the conversation up front.

Zayn knows he rarely talks, but that's just how he is. He feels comfortable listening to other people and likes to take his time with responding. If you mention something he's passionate about though, chances are he won't stop talking.

That's also what he likes about Harry: he's not afraid to fill the silence. During the small amount of time they have spent together, Harry has managed to find out how Zayn works, and that you shouldn't be offended if he doesn't say much. That wasn't the case in the beginning, though. He often got annoyed and deliberately let the silences go on, until one of them couldn't bear it anymore.

Sometimes they don't even need to talk and are perfectly content doing their own thing. Harry will read a book and Zayn will work on something in his sketchbook. They had a rocky start, but after that they soon fell into what feels like an old friendship, something familiar and easy.

Although Zayn wouldn't _really_ describe it as easy. Not when his hands are itching to brush Harry's curls out of his face when he's reading, or to simply hold his hands. When he wonders what it would be like to hold Harry close to him. They're dangerous thoughts, and Zayn doesn't like dangerous things, but he likes Harry, which should mean what? That's where his thoughts usually end and his headache begins.

He concentrates on the mechanical noises of the lift, with his hands wrapped around the bar and his eyes on his reflection. The mirrored walls make the lift seem big, makes it feel like he’s in a room filled with a million versions of himself, all staring back at him. Maybe, if he doesn’t blink this time, he’ll _see_. Maybe-

‘’I’ll see you guys at dinner,’’ Harry’s voice sounds. Zayn quickly follows Doniya out of the lift and looks back at Harry to send him a small smile before the doors close again. When they do, his sister hits him on the back of his head.

‘’Hey! Why did you-’’

‘’Stop doing that!’’ she demands and starts dragging him along to their room when the doors open on their floor.

‘’Stop doing _what?_ I wasn’t doing anything.’’ Zayn yanks his arm free and hurries away from her to open the door. He’s tempted to throw it shut in front of her face, but leaves it open and sits on his bed instead.

‘’Exactly,’’ Doniya says and closes the door before sitting on the bed next to him. ‘’You don’t _do_ anything. You’re always looking at your feet and keeping your mouth shut.’’

‘’I’m not,’’ he mutters.

His sister sighs and grasps his hand. ‘’Then look at me.’’ She waits for him to do so before continuing: ‘’You’re scared to look up, and I understand why, so I decided to watch and let you do things in your own time, but _damnit_ , Zayn! You have to look up now!’’

‘’Why?’’ Zayn croaks. It feels like something is lodged in his throat and he’s not quite sure what he’s asking, but any answer will do. He just needs an answer.

‘’Because Harry likes you. He’s a good person and he likes you, and as your sister it’s my duty to make sure that you know, so you can do something about it.’’ It’s not the answer he was expecting, yet it seems to be the one he was looking for, and as he looks into his sister's eyes he can't help but be encouraged by her words.

Harry is his clean slate, his chance to start over and do things right. He's as safe as it gets.

"What do I do?" Zayn might be encouraged, but he still isn't an expert when it comes to romance.

"Take some time to think about it. You'll know. Don't think too long, though," she chuckles and pats his hand. "Don't worry, little one. I'll be here if you need me."

"Thanks, Don." She hums in response and leans forward to place a chaste kiss on his forehead before getting off the bed and trudging towards the bathroom.

Zayn will see Harry at dinner and he will be looking up.

 

***

 

Some things are easier said than done, but sometimes words can't help you either. Zayn figures if he stares at the ceiling long enough, he'll know.

It's day seven, and Doniya has taken Harry off his hands for the time being. She understands his need to think and prepare himself, to come up with a plan. He isn't one to improvise.

Dinner the night before was difficult because Zayn had to keep reminding himself to keep his chin up, eyes ahead, and focus on his goal. He kept repeating the mantra so often in his head that he forgot to say more, so he barely said a word that night. He's a work in progress.

And progress is what he is making; he's almost sure Harry doesn't think he's an idiot. The rest still has to be confirmed, but he's working on it. If lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling could be considered working.

Zayn wishes he could let someone else do it, like when he was a kid and asked his friend if he wanted to tell this girl he liked her, in exchange for some sweets. Why didn't adults still do that? Sometimes Zayn really hates being a grown-up. There are definitely perks, but he still wishes things were easier.

He groans and turns on his side, because now his thoughts are getting off track. Instead of lying on his bed, he decides to spend some time on the balcony and grabs the warm, soft quilt. When he sets foot on the balcony, he wraps it around himself and sinks down to sit on the floor.

He watches the world through the bars and blinks at the brightness of everything. It always takes a while for his eyes to get used to, but once they are, there's a calm that settles over him. Looking at the snow-covered mountains, valleys and trees is like looking at a blank canvas. It reminds him of possibilities. The chance to start creating wherever you like, however and whenever.

Snow may be awfully cold and wet, but Zayn can't deny its beauty. His appreciation for snow is just another sign of how he's grown these past few days. When he first arrived here he was bitter. It felt like the world was out to get him, so he created walls and didn't allow himself to like things because he feared disappointment.

Now he figures disappointment isn't the worst thing that can happen. Nor is pain. He feels like a proper adult admitting that. But it's true, because he doesn't want to look back on his life when he's old and regret all the things he never did. If he just takes the leap he might even have someone to look back on life with him.

Zayn wraps the quilt tighter around himself and sighs. Never did he expect to come here and become a different person. He's still him, though. He'll always be Zayn.

Knocking on the door pulls him out of his reverie, and he quickly gets up to answer it. Inside it's much warmer so he drops the quilt on the bed before slowly opening to door, revealing a flustered looking Harry.

"You ok?"

"I know," Harry says instead of answering his question. Zayn doesn't know what he's supposed to do with that information, so he frowns and steps back to let Harry in the room.

"Know what, exactly?"

"Doniya told me."

Zayn crosses his arms. "Told you _what_?" His sister gave him time, but a few hours really isn't enough.

"Louis," is all Harry says, but it's all he needs to say. It's the name that has haunted him, had been the reason behind most of the decisions he made. Until now.

It's a strange thing, moving on. You don't really realise you've done it until someone says their name and you feel...free. When the joy someone else brings you becomes greater than your loss. But that joy is slowly changing into doubt as Zayn watches Harry and waits for _that look_.

"I don't need your pity," he bites at Harry, balling his hands into fists at his sides. He feels vulnerable without his arms covering his chest, but he needs to be strong.

Harry chuckles. "I know. And I don't pity you; I like you. A lot." Zayn feels like he's been caught in a whirlwind, or a room, with the walls slowly moving in on him. "Just thought you should know."

Suddenly he bursts free, like the walls evaporated and he can finally _see_ Harry. See him standing right in front of him with this stupid smile on his face, as if the bastard already knows what Zayn is going to do next. He almost doesn't want to give him the satisfaction, but he's been waiting too long, so he surges forward and grabs Harry's face between his hands, finally connecting their mouths.

It's clumsy because they're both trying not to smile, their teeth clashing and breathing irregular, but it's perfect. Their lips seem to mould together like this is the sole purpose they were created for, and Zayn can't keep his hands still. They're all over Harry; squeezing his shoulders, running down his back and going up again to bury themselves in Harry's hair.

Zayn pulls away so he can look at him, see the smile that _he_ caused. "I like you a lot, too," he murmurs, tucking a few stray hairs behind Harry's ear.

"Really? I never would have guessed."

Zayn laughs and kisses him again. "I could get used to this."

"Yeah? I wouldn't mind," Harry says and tugs Zayn even closer so he can almost feel him inhale before they move back in, mouths open. It's slow and deep, tongues sliding together wetly. Zayn can taste a hint of orange and something minty, probably from the gum he's always chewing. Not now, though.

Zayn pulls away, trying to keep in his laughter. "You knew I was going to kiss you."

"How do you know I knew?" Harry asks, keeping his arms rested around Zayn's neck.

"'Cause you're not chewing gum for once." Harry smirks and shrugs. "You bastard," Zayn laughs. He feels light, like he took off and is now floating somewhere between the clouds with the sun shining down on him.

"A man can hope. I also had a speech prepared, just in case. Looks like I didn't need it, after all," Harry sighs, letting his arms slide down a bit.

"A speech? How long did it take you to come up with that?"

"Not long. Finished it two days ago."

Zayn lets the meaning of that sink in while his fingers draw circles on the skin of Harry's hips, warm and soft. "Thank you, for waiting."

Harry nods. "It was worth it."

Zayn can't help but agree.

 

***

 

The first thing Zayn plans to do when he’s alone is call Liam. It feels like it has been ages, even though they do text back and forth. That reminds Zayn; he has Harry's number now, but how is he supposed to proceed? Texting him here would be weird, since he's just a floor above Zayn and all.

He sits cross-legged on his bed, clutching his phone and chewing on his bottom lip. First, he just needs to call his best friend. He'll figure things out from there.

Liam answers the phone after three rings. " _Zayn! What's up, mate?"_

"Just wanted to chat," he says, bouncing his leg slightly.

" _You never 'just chat'. What's going on? Do I need to have a yell at someone?_ " Liam never yells, unless it's for Zayn.

"Not yet? I think."

" _Alright, and that means?_ "

"I met someone, Li. He is - he's amazing," Zayn sighs. He knows he must sound ridiculous, but it’s true.

" _Is this going to be one of those summer romances that last a week before you both have to go back to your own continent?_ "

Zayn snorts. "It's winter. Also, he lives in London."

" _Still. Are you sure about this, man?_ "

"Yes. He makes me happy."

" _Okay, then. Tell me more about this fellow._ "

Zayn launches into a speech about Harry; his eyes, smile, hair, sense of humour, laugh, legs-

" _Jesus Christ, Zayn. You’ve got it bad,_ ’’ Liam laughs through the phone. " _What are you planning on doing?_ "

"I don't know. Just keep moving forward, I guess."

" _Solid plan, there. Just be careful, yea?_ " Zayn nods and stretches his legs on the bed. " _Mate, you're doing it again. Can't hear you nod_ ," Liam laments, but Zayn can hear a hint of amusement.

"Sorry! I'll be careful. How's home?"

Home, for Liam, is Wolverhampton. He goes back there every year during winter break to celebrate Christmas with his parents and sisters, this year being no different. Zayn makes sure to call from whatever location he's at, because he understands like no other the need to talk to someone who a) has no girl parts, and b) isn't part of your immediate family.

So Zayn listens to Liam talk about his sisters, the usual squabble they have over the decorations, and when the best time to open the presents will be even though they agree on the morning every year. Zayn doesn't really celebrate Christmas, so listening to Liam about it is quite amusing.

It also makes Zayn wonder if Harry is planning to, since he's at a ski resort with his parents and his sister Gemma is still at home with her husband. Newlyweds and all. Maybe he should ask him, see if he wants to do something.

" _You listening_?" Liam asks, drawing Zayn's attention from his own thoughts.

"Sorry, got a bit distracted," Zayn apologises, but Liam just laughs it off.

" _'S alright, I get it. Go to your man. I'll talk to you soon_." They say their goodbyes, and Zayn stares down at his phone screen until it goes dark, his reflection staring back at him. Sighing, he pockets his phone and decides to go for a walk first.

 

The wind is cold, cutting into his skin and making his teeth chatter, and Zayn can slowly feel his hands and feet starting to grow numb. He has been walking past the little shops, even went inside one to warm up and take a look around, although he left again a few minutes later after the salesclerk tried to sell him hand cream and threatened to start lecturing him on keeping moisturised in these extreme weather conditions.

What he needs is a hot drink or a fire, and he is glad to find the latter amongst a collection of stalls selling a variety of things he isn't really interested in. He nods at the man on the other side of the small fire pit and stretches out his hands. After they start to feel somewhat normal again, he tries to think of where to go to next. There must be a part of town he hasn't been to yet, although he doesn't want to wander too far-

Two hands grab his shoulders, startling him. "Boo!"

Zayn doesn't have to turn around to know who it is. "Harry, how mature of you."

"Sorry, couldn't resist," Harry chuckles and moves to stand in front of Zayn.

"You're blocking my source of heat," Zayn complains, narrowing his eyes.

"What, I'm not hot enough?" This makes Zayn laugh, and he pulls Harry closer while shaking his head.

"'Course you are," Zayn murmurs before moving in closer and placing a kiss on Harry's lips, their cold noses brushing.

Harry smiles brightly and takes Zayn's hand. "Good, because otherwise I wasn't going to ask you if you wanted to come to the Yule Ball with me."

"The what?"

"Yule Ball. It's on Christmas Eve in two days. You up for it?"

Zayn chuckles nervously. "Yule...Ball? I don't have anything to wear and dancing really isn't my thing..." he trails off, confused by Harry's happy expression. "What is it?"

"What if we have our own little Ball? In my room, with music and wine. Like a proper date!" Zayn chews on his bottom lip thoughtfully. "And no need to dress up," Harry adds with a wide smile.

"That actually sounds quite nice." The only part Zayn doesn't look forward to is the dancing, but he's not afraid of embarrassing himself in front of Harry; he's done that enough already, he reckons. Whenever he thinks about the incident on the ice he has to resist the urge to cringe, although he did make Harry laugh. Maybe it wasn't so bad.

"Great! I should get back to Don, left her in a shop." Harry points to something behind Zayn and when he turns around to look, he sees it's the shop with the pushy salesclerk.

"Alright, but don't buy any hand cream."

Harry gives him a weird look. "I won't?" He then leans forward to capture Zayn's lips in a short, sweet kiss, before trudging through the snow and disappearing inside the shop after giving one last wave.

Zayn gives up his efforts to warm up entirely and decides to go back to the hotel instead, where he can curl up under a blanket and work on his sketches.

 

***

 

The closing of a door startles Zayn awake and when he looks up he sees his sister walking in, carrying a small shopping bag. He yawns, closing his sketchbook and making sure he doesn't sit on his pencils.

"Harry's waiting for you, sleepy head," his sister says and ruffles his hair. "You know where his room is." Zayn nods and gently puts his sketchbook and pencils aside before unwrapping himself from the blanket and getting off his bed.

As he closes the door behind him, his sister calls after him. "Don't be late for dinner!" He isn't planning on it. Doniya sometimes forgets he and Harry only just became a thing, although Zayn doesn't know what the 'thing' is. They feel too serious to be just a 'thing.'

Blinking sleepily, he waits for the lift. Falling asleep wasn't part of the plan, but he was comfortable and warm, which usually results in him falling asleep somehow. He tries to temper his messy hair in the time it takes him to go up a floor, but it doesn't seem to want to listen. If he remembers correctly, Harry’s said he likes the look anyway.

He walks down the quiet hallway and as he thinks of seeing Harry again, there's no helping the smile appearing on his face. Even if he saw him already today, the feeling he gets is something like a rush of excitement and nerves mixed together. Not bad nerves, though. The kind that comes with situations like waiting in line for your first rollercoaster ride, although for Zayn that isn't such a good comparison; he doesn't like rollercoasters.

After tapping on the wooden door with his knuckles, Harry opens it within a matter of seconds. "Zayn! Come in," he says, appearing somewhat out of breath. When he does, it’s obvious Harry had just rapidly tried to clean up; clothes piled onto a chair in the corner, the large double bed hastily made and one curtain still slightly drawn. Harry’s room is bigger than Zayn’s, and so is his bathroom. Not that he’s jealous or anything.

Zayn sinks down onto the bed and grins. ‘’Even if you’re a mess, doesn’t mean your room has to be.’’

‘’That’s my line!’’ Harry whines and pushes Zayn down onto the bed so he’s looking at the crisp white ceiling. ‘’Come up with your own words,’’ he huffs and lies down next to Zayn, who props himself up on his elbow and leans over Harry a bit.

‘’Alright. You are a very messy boy, and messy b-’’

‘’Oh, shut up! Close your mouth. Or even better: put it on mine! Just don’t talk,’’ Harry laughs despite his discomfort, and Zayn laughs with him. It’s a thing Zayn can’t stop doing, not something he really has any control over. Whenever Harry laughs, he finds himself joining in, and it’s effortless. Like breathing. He can feel his smile fade as this thought settles in. Apparently he is in this deeper than he thought at first.

‘’What’s up?’’ Harry’s frowning, his bottom lip jutting out.

‘’The sky,’’ is Zayn’s answer, and it’s enough of a distraction for Harry. He’s smiling again, which means Zayn is smiling.

‘’Which reminds me; I planned some activities for us!’’

Zayn watches confusedly how Harry pushes himself off the bed to search between the pile of clothes on the chair. ‘’How does the sky remind you of-’’

‘’Found it! We’ll start tomorrow night, with something simple,’’ Harry reads off a list he’s holding, looking entirely too excited.

‘’And the other activities are?’’ Zayn honestly doesn’t know if he _wants_ to find out.

‘’A surprise! Don’t worry, you’ll like them.’’

So he’s not very reassured, but if Harry’s there, he’s bound to enjoy himself.

 

Something simple turns out to actually be something simple. Zayn isn’t sure what he expected, but when he heard they were going to the bonfire night, he was immensely relieved.

They're wrapped in layers of clothing, the only thing not covered being their faces. Still, when they set foot outside, Zayn feels like he might just turn into a human popsicle, his teeth chattering violently. When he looks at Harry next to him, he's not much better off. Despite his discomfort, Zayn pulls through and finds that the chattering reduces as he gets used to the cold, even if his nose is starting to grow numb.

He keeps his head tilted down to shield himself from the sharp, cold wind, until Harry nudges him. They stopped walking, and Zayn can see why.

In the near distance, big flames are casting a bright glow around themselves, illuminating the white snow and the people scattered around, sitting on logs around the fire. Zayn keeps his eyes on the dancing light as they get closer, less aware of the harsh cold. The crunching of snow under their feet gets dulled by the sound of crackling and the quiet murmur of people talking.

"I'll get us some hot drinks," Harry says after they found an empty spot. Zayn nods and sits down on the big log and looks into the orange flames. Warmth is slowly seeping through his clothes, and when Harry comes back with two steaming cups of hot cocoa, he has to admit this was a pretty great idea.

Seeing snow at night is different. It's not so blinding, more of a quiet static instead. Sadly it doesn't get any less cold.

"Zayn," Harry says his name like he's been saying it more than once already, and Zayn's head snaps to the side.

"Huh?"

"You're not bored, are you?"

Sometimes Zayn forgets Harry can get insecure as well, so he quickly shakes his head. "This is cool," he assures Harry. "Pun intended."

Harry laughs, his eyes lighting up almost as bright as the fire. Zayn is still dumbfounded by how everything only seems to make Harry more beautiful. The cold gives him this lovely flush, as does the heat. Zayn wonders what he would look like, sweaty and-

"You're staring," Harry chuckles, and Zayn quickly averts his gaze. "It's ok, you can stare at me anytime."

"Good to know." Zayn leans in and captures Harry's lips with his own, shivering slightly when their cold noses touch. Harry opens his mouth and it's warm, wet, and tastes somewhat like chocolate. If he could, Zayn would run his hands through Harry's hair, but he's wearing gloves and a thick woollen beanie is covering Harry's curls, so he pulls away with a sigh.

"Wanna go back so we can make out?" Harry suggests, wiggling his eyebrows.

Zayn laughs and pecks him on the lips once. "Think that might be your best idea yet."

 

***

 

It’s an almost clear night, the moon dancing with the few remaining clouds, in and out of sight. Zayn’s always been fascinated by it, by anything bigger than him; the stars, the moon, the sun, and the mind. Sometimes his own mind feels bigger than the sun, especially on those days he can’t seem to shut it off. When he’s over thinking to the point of exhaustion, until his thoughts start to get thoughts.

Tonight is one of those nights. Zayn has been staring out the window for what feels like an eternity, waiting for Harry to text him to come over. In reality it’s probably not that long, but time seems to slow down when he’s nervous.

Behind him, he can hear Doniya turning a page of the book she’s reading on her bed. ‘’Nerves are good, right?’’ he asks, keeping his eyes on the glowing orb as it once again escapes from behind a cloud.

‘’Means you care. You’ll be fine,’’ she says absentmindedly, and Zayn nods. He can’t blame her; he hasn’t been able to stop talking about his date with Harry since he first found out. It’s Christmas Eve, which is one of the things he’s worrying about. Even if he doesn’t celebrate Christmas, he feels like he should have gotten Harry something. Besides that, he’s also worried about not knowing what’s going to happen. He doesn’t like not knowing things, because then he can’t prepare for them.

Buzzing from his pocket startles him, and he quickly retrieves his phone to see he received a message:

_I’m ready for you. See you in a bit. x_

He takes a deep breath and wills away his nerves. There's really nothing to be nervous about, it will be just him and Harry. Alone. Which shouldn't make him _this_ nervous, because he spends plenty of time alone with him, but this just feels...tonight feels different. Good different.

"It's time," he announces, more to himself. When he turns around, Doniya is looking at him with that suggestive look she gets sometimes. He knows what she's thinking. "This will be a _normal_ date."

Doniya chuckles. "Alright. Have fun, little one." Zayn only huffs, and as he's on his way out, his sister calls after him. "See you in the morning!" Good thing she can't see his ears burning red.

On his way to Harry's room, he tries to collect himself. He figures no amount of preparation is enough, which means there is actually none needed. Everything will be fine. All he needs to do is remind himself of that.

When Harry opens the door after Zayn finally knocked, he _knows_ everything will be fine. It's Harry, and he won't want to do this with anyone else.

"For a moment I was convinced you wouldn't show," Harry says as he steps back and lets Zayn in. The room has somewhat transformed; there are candles placed around, giving everything an orange glow. A bottle of wine and two glasses are waiting on the dresser. Romantic, is what it is. Zayn can't remember anyone ever doing anything like this for him.

Zayn smiles at Harry and reaches for his hand. "Wouldn't miss this for the world." His ears pick up the faint music playing in the background as a new song starts, a piano playing a warm, cheerful melody. It sounds familiar, and only when the singing starts does he realise what it is.

He snorts. "Driving home for Christmas?" Harry laughs and walks over to the small radio, turning up the volume.

"I had trouble finding a signal, alright? At least there's music," he reasons, swaying from side to side as he walks back towards Zayn. "Dance with me."

Zayn groans but goes with it anyway, placing his right hand on Harry's shoulder as his left hand clasps Harry's right one. As they're slowly swaying to the music, Zayn finds himself getting lost in Harry's eyes. They're shining with happiness, and he knows he must look the same, because Harry makes him happy. Makes him glow with it, a warmth spreading through his chest like a cosy fire. No fireworks or explosions, but the comfort of easy company.

As it gradually fades off into the next song, Zayn rests his chin on Harry's shoulder, inhaling his sweet scent. He recognises the song as 'Something Stupid' and has to resist the urge to laugh, but Harry starts humming along, the vibrations feeling like they're going right through Zayn. They're so close, completely caught up in each other and the music.

" _The time is right, your perfume fills my head, the stars get red and oh the night's so blue_ ," Harry murmurs, his breath washing against Zayn's ear.

" _And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like I love you_ ," Zayn continues, pulling away so he can swirl Harry around to the sound of the violins. The ' _I love you's_ ' start fading gradually, and it suddenly feels like static between them, a thick silence creeping up before it's interrupted by the next song.

Harry clears his throat. "Right, time for a drink." Zayn nods and finds himself mouthing along to the lyrics as he watches Harry take his time pouring their wine after he finally manages to open the bottle.

 _You're just too good to be true; Can't take my eyes off of you; You'd be like heaven to touch, I wanna hold you so much; At long last love has_ -

"Here you go." Harry hands him a glass, their hands brushing. Somehow it feels more intimate than any of the kisses they've shared. Zayn walks over to the bed and sits down, his legs suddenly feeling like they could give out. The bed dips under Harry's weight when he sits next to him, and Zayn quickly gulps down some of his wine, ignoring the curious look Harry gives him.

"Thank you. For being here," Harry nearly whispers. When Zayn looks at him, he's staring down into his glass, swirling the liquid around.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"People don't usually humour me. They...you're nothing like them. Even if you don't seem to like it, you do it. For me. I appreciate that." Harry gives him a sincere look that seems to burn right through him, setting his lungs on fire.

Zayn takes a deep breath. "I'd do almost anything, if it makes you happy." Harry smiles and stands up, taking Zayn's glass with him. Apparently he drank all of it already. He just doesn't really seem to be aware of himself.

When Harry sits back down and hands him another glass, it's like a set of gates has been opened, allowing conversation to flow. The subject of the night seems to be bad relationships, and Zayn is saddened by the fact that Harry's also had his fair share of them. Names are not mentioned, until Louis comes up.

"Don told me you two had a nasty break up," Harry starts. He doesn't really ask, allowing Zayn to decide if he wants to share or change the subject.

Zayn decides he wants to share. "We were high school sweethearts. He was my partner in crime and there was nothing we didn't do together, until I found out I wasn't the only one for him - about a year back. I loved him. That's all."

"Past tense?" Harry asks, and explains when Zayn’s confused look prompts him to clarify. "Loved him. Past tense."

"Yeah, guess so."

Harry reaches for his hand, squeezing it softly. "Good. You deserve better." Zayn nods and swallows the lump in his throat. "More wine?" Harry takes their empty glasses, but Zayn shakes his head.

"C'mere," Zayn demands, scooting back on the bed and keeping his arms open for Harry. When Harry presses against him with a sigh, he places a kiss against his temple. "You're right; I deserve better." He places his finger under Harry's chin, tilting it up. "You're better," Zayn whispers against his lips before closing the small gap.

When they open their mouths and Zayn can feel the first slide of their tongues together, it's like someone has started a chain reaction. He can't feel where his breath ends and Harry's begins; if he's kicking off Harry's shoes or his own. Somewhere Zayn ends up on top of Harry, grinding down like he needs it to breathe. Harry's breath catches on a moan, and he tugs at Zayn's shirt. It comes off with difficulty, followed by Harry's shirt shortly after.

Harry's hips buck up into Zayn's, causing such friction that Zayn can feel tingles running up his spine. Sweat is gathering at the base of it, and his jeans are starting to get painfully constricting. He takes a moment to look down, where Harry's writhing underneath him. The flush has spread from his cheeks to his neck and chest, where a thin sheet of sweat is sticking to his skin. His curls are spread like a halo around his head, and for a moment Zayn is sure this is what an angel must look like.

"Pants," Harry interrupts his thoughts. Zayn quickly but somewhat clumsily removes both their jeans, and he sighs when he grinds down again, the only thing separating their erections now being thin layers of cotton. Harry's biting down on his lip in concentration and Zayn weaves their fingers together as he grinds down, hard.

" _Fuck_ , _need_ ," Harry can't seem to form a coherent sentence, but neither can Zayn. Although he gets the message when Harry starts pushing at his underwear, scratching his nails over the flesh of Zayn's ass. He grunts, runs his teeth along Harry's neck and barely gets their underwear halfway down when the slick slide of their cocks together makes him moan loudly. Before he knows it, he's coming, gulping for air and clutching Harry like he's the only thing that would keep him from falling off this earth.

Underneath him, Harry shudders and arches his back, muttering a garbled string of words as he comes across his own stomach. Zayn mouths along his jaw, waits for their laboured breathing to calm down. They're a sticky, sweaty mess, and despite his heavy limbs, he feels like he's floating.

" _God_ ," Harry breathes, brushing Zayn's sweat-damp hair from his face.

Zayn chuckles. "Nope, just me." Harry groans, pushing weakly at Zayn, who just presses short little kisses down Harry's neck and along his collarbones. He stops abruptly, looking down at Harry with an apologetic expression. "So I couldn't get you a Christmas present. Hope you don't mind?"

"Are you kidding me? You gave me _this_ ," Harry says and motions to himself. Zayn snorts, because all he can see is drying come and a set of slowly blooming hickeys, but he knows that's not what Harry _really_ means. "I guess you could get me something next year."

Zayn looks into Harry's eyes, sees the unasked question he'd never thought would come his way again, but it feels good. Feels good to be able to think of a future and _see_ one, instead of the endless grasping in darkness. So Zayn thinks it's a good step forward, one he really wants to make.

"Definitely," Zayn says, and kisses Harry until his lungs run out of air.

 

***

 

Slowly but surely Zayn wakes up, his face smushed into the pillow and limbs all over the place. He hasn't slept like this in what feels like ages, so deep that it takes a while for everything to register. Longer than it normally does, anyway. The first thing he does is wiggle his toes, and he smiles when he can feel Harry's leg. He's about to say 'good morning' when he hears the click of a camera.

"Whadyoudoing?" he grunts, eyes still closed. He didn't come as far as opening them, yet.

"Just taking a photo," Harry muses. Zayn cracks open an eye, sees Harry sitting up and tapping away on his phone screen with his tongue poking out at the side.

Zayn groans. "Not of me, I hope?" He turns on his back with a sigh, dragging his hand down his face.

"Just for my background, promise."

"Lemme see," Zayn demands, holding out his hand. Harry hands him the phone and when he looks at it, he sees his face taking up the entire background. Or he thinks it's his face. It's still half buried in the pillow, and his hair resembles a bird's nest. At least he was still smiling. "Fucking hell, Harry," Zayn breathes and throws the phone back at him.

"I think you look hot."

"Fine, but you're an idiot."

Harry lies down next to Zayn, slinging his arm over his stomach. "Your idiot?"

"Yes, my idiot," Zayn sighs and looks down at Harry, whose chin is resting on his chest. He reaches with his hand, brushing through the dishevelled chestnut curls.

Harry hums and closes his eyes. "You can be my idiot?"

"Who says I'm an idiot?" Zayn snorts, but keeps rubbing Harry's scalp.

Harry giggles and turns his head so his ear is pressed against Zayn's chest. "I do."

"Alright, then. _This_ idiot wants to take a shower," Zayn says and starts to move away, but Harry keeps clinging onto him.

"No! Stay. Pet." Harry takes Zayn's hand and directs it back to his head.

"I was thinking the other idiot might want to join this idiot?"

Harry looks up at Zayn, eyes wide. "I'll get the water going!" On his way off the bed and into the bathroom, he manages to knee Zayn in the stomach and almost faceplants to the floor. This gives Zayn the time to stretch and contemplate if he should worry about Harry slipping in the shower. That boy can be a disaster sometimes.

Yelling from the bathroom gets him off his feet, and when he enters he sees Harry through the foggy glass pane, already under the spray of water, his curls slowly disappearing as they get wet. Zayn turns to the side and stops when he catches his reflection in the mirror.

Something looks different, and it's not something physical. Not really. As he looks into his own eyes, unblinking, he can see _happiness_. It's something he hadn't really seen in a while, but now it's here and it's startling. It also makes him realise he's never going to find the flaw he was looking for, because it's not _his_ flaw. It never was. Harry is proof of that.

It was Louis' mistake all along and there is nothing Zayn could have done.

"Gonna stare at yourself all morning or what?" Harry quips, his head poking out from behind the shower door. "You can wash my hair if I can do yours," he suggests, holding out a bottle of shampoo.

Zayn nods, rushes out of his underwear and takes the bottle. "I wasn't staring at myself, just to be clear."

Harry looks him up and down with a smirk. "Good, because that's my job." Zayn just blushes and quickly gets into the shower, swatting Harry's shoulder when he winks at him.

"Turn around so I can wash your damn hair."

"Ooh, bossy!" Harry laughs, but listens and turns around anyway.

Zayn thinks he's falling for an idiot, but it might just be what he needs.

 

***

 

‘’ _This_ is your idea?’’ So it is well known that Zayn isn't fond of anything that could result in serious injury, yet Harry still thinks this isn't a bad idea. _This_ being snow tubing.

They're already there, because Zayn foolishly follows Harry anywhere without questioning it. He is wrapped in so many layers of clothing he lost count, but he doubts they will save him from breaking any bones, or the children currently sliding down the mountain.

"Cool, right?" Harry chirps, looking around excitedly.

"Have you _met_ me?"

Harry frowns. "What? I- oh. I promise you it's safe!"

"Tell that to those kids flying off to their deaths! How aren't they terrified? Anyone smart would be!"

"You're so cute when you're worried." Harry kisses Zayn on the cheek and trots off towards the employee in charge of the tubes, who looks bored out of his mind. Zayn on the other hand, is trying to keep calm. When he sees the people going down at such a fast pace in something that, to his standards, is _not_ safe, he doesn't feel tempted to follow them. However, they do seem to be having fun, and fun is just what Zayn needs.

He catches up with Harry and nods at the employee, getting a blank stare in return. "Fine, I'll do it. Just once."

"That's the spirit!" Harry cheers, squeezing Zayn's shoulder. The employee comes back with two tubes attached to each other, and hands the rope to Harry. "Alright, let's go up."

Sighing, Zayn follows him. When they make it onto the moving walkway, he realises they're really doing this. He doesn't have to like it, just endure it. It'll be over soon enough. Behind him, Harry's whistling the soft melody to a song he doesn't know, but if Zayn focuses on that, he should stop feeling nauseous.

It actually helps, until they reach the top. Admittedly it’s not as high as he originally thought, and everything seems less daunting when he looks at it from above, but _still_. He can’t shake off the feeling that something bad is going to happen.

Eventually it’s their turn and Zayn is facing nothing but snow. There are people in the distance and trees lining the mountain, while the sun suddenly appears from behind a cluster of clouds, as if it came out just to gloat at a miserable Zayn.

‘’You okay?’’ Harry’s worried tone pulls Zayn out of his trance and he turns around to look at him. ‘’I’m sorry if I pushed you too much. You don’t have to do this.’’

Zayn nods. ‘’I know, don’t worry.’’ Harry doesn’t look convinced and his frown doesn’t quite leave his face, but when Zayn gives him a thumbs-up, he rolls his eyes and lowers himself onto the tube. With his heart pounding against his ribcage, Zayn sits down himself. His back is to Harry, and the only thing Zayn can see of him are his snow-covered boots by his side, because he bravely decided to sit in front. Already he regrets that decision.

‘’Hold on tight!’’ Harry calls, voice high with excitement. Zayn snorts, because he really doesn’t need anyone to tell him to hold on. With every inch they’re being pushed forward his grip seems to become even tighter, until his hands start to hurt.

Only one more push before they’ll be flying down the hill.

‘’ _Oh shit_ ,’’ Zayn breathes just before he can feel them begin to slide down, their speed increasing rapidly. All he can see is white and vague shapes in the distance due to his watering eyes. He’s spewing profanities, but he can barely hear himself because of the wind in his ears and Harry’s loud laughter behind him. Then, just like that, they stop.

Zayn feels like he might have lost his stomach somewhere along the way, and he really doesn’t trust his legs, so he stays put. Harry appears in front of him with a beaming smile, if not breathing a bit heavily.

‘’You did it!’’ He sinks down onto his knees and grabs Zayn’s face, giving him a big, wet kiss. ‘’I’m so proud of you,’’ Harry pants, still smiling.

‘’Yeah,’’ Zayn says weakly and tries to stand on his shaky legs. He catches Harry giving him a worried look, but waves it off and tries to pick up the rope attached to their tubes.

Harry slaps his hands away and takes it from him. ‘’Let me do that. You don’t look so good.’’

‘’Enough excitement for me today, I guess,’’ Zayn confesses. He could use a break.

Harry grins at him and starts the walk back towards the tube storage with Zayn following closely. ‘’Although you didn’t sound excited, you know. Don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear that much,’’ Harry laughs.

Zayn narrows his eyes at him. ‘’Maybe because your obnoxious laughter was threatening to burst my eardrums.’’

‘’You love my laugh,’’ Harry counters with a smug smile. Sometimes Zayn really can’t stand him. Especially when he’s right.

‘’Shut up,’’ Zayn mutters, increasing his pace. He suddenly can’t wait to get out of the cold, to go inside and bury himself under a warm blanket. Preferably with Harry.

"Sorry, no can do!" Harry hands the rope to the employee, whose mood still hasn't improved.

Zayn sighs, reaching forward to take Harry's hand. "Want to head back and chill?"

"Actually," Harry starts, pulling away his hand and looking down at his feet, "I promised Don I'd hang with her."

"Oh. That's fine. I'll just, yea," Zayn fumbles for words, feeling incredibly awkward all of a sudden. He clears his throat and motions towards no particular direction, but Harry seems to get the message, and they start walking back to the hotel.

On their way back, all Zayn can think about are his empty hands, and how despite them being gloved and tucked away in his pockets, they still feel cold. He wonders if Harry actually feels the same; if he's fighting the urge to reach out, and not just physically.

No matter how much Zayn wishes he could read minds, he's also glad he can't. For now, he'll take what he can get and leave the figuring things out part for later.

 

***

 

Even if his eyes are drooping, he’s adamant on finishing his sketch. Zayn is positioned on his belly, feet tucked under his pillow and pencils spread out across his bed. He likes to make a mess when he draws, enjoys the familiarity of the stains on his hands. It calms him down. So whenever he’s stressed or worried about something, he draws. Tonight, he’s drawing Harry. Although he can’t quite get it right, maybe because he’s not calm.

He’s been on edge the past few hours, agitated and unfocused. The most frustrating part is that he’s not even sure if it’s necessary. It started out with a hunch, a tiny moment in which he thought ‘what if?’, and now it’s blown out of proportion.

Soft knocking on his hotel room door takes him out of his momentary stupor, and he carefully swipes his pencils out of the way before dragging himself off his bed to answer it. When he does, he’s surprised to find out it’s his mother.

‘’Um, Don is taking a shower,’’ he says, assuming she’s here for his sister.

‘’Actually, I wanted to have a chat with my son.’’ Zayn hesitates a moment before stepping back and allowing her in. He watches as she quietly sits on Doniya’s bed, looking at him expectantly.

‘’Alright,’’ Zayn sighs and crawls onto his own bed, facing his mother. ‘’So?’’

‘’You were awfully quiet during dinner,’’ she starts, and Zayn knows she’s giving him an opening to say what he wants to say, but he can’t.

What comes out instead is: ‘’I’ve always been quiet.’’

She shakes her head. ‘’Not the past few days, you haven’t. Is everything alright?’’

‘’Yeah, ‘s fine,’’ he says, if not a bit too quickly. His own voice doesn’t sound right to him, and of course his mother sees right through him.

‘’Is it Harry?’’ she asks softly, in that tone she always uses when she _knows_ already, but still asks because she knows Zayn needs to say it himself.

‘’Think so,’’ Zayn confesses, pulling his knees up to his chest. It feels like he’s shrinking, like he’s not big enough to hold the words in anymore. They’ll start spilling out of him any second, now.

‘’Did something happen?’’ That does it.

‘’No, but that’s it. We never came to an understanding about things and I just realised that and now, like, I’m starting to think I imagined things? Or misinterpreted them or something, you know?’’ Zayn feels lighter already now he was able to share some of the load with his mother. That’s one thing he loves about his family. Even though they’re private people, they’re not afraid to share.

‘’The only thing you can really do is ask him, I’m afraid.’’

Zayn sighs. ‘’Kind of wish I didn’t have to. I’m not used to this.’’

‘’I know, sunshine.’’

Zayn looks up at his mother, sees the somewhat concerned look she’s giving him, and suddenly feels like an ass. ‘’I should have told you sooner.’’

‘’That, you should. But I understand, and so does Anne.’’

‘’Oh, that’s uh - good to know.’’ Now he’s blushing again, because apparently, no matter how hard he tries, it’s impossible to keep secrets around here. Not that it was ever really a secret. He just wasn’t ready to tell anyone, still isn’t sure if he is, even if they know now. Or knew already.

‘’Just be careful, darling,’’ his mother says, and opens her mouth as if she’s going to say something else, but then closes it again. Zayn knows what she was going to ask, so he nods. He knows she doesn’t want him to disappear, not like last time.

He can recall everything clearly.

 

_It’s easier like this; not admitting anything. Even if it requires him to stay inside and avoid the people that could ask questions, because questions need answers. Answers he doesn’t want to give. That would make it too real._

_The worst part is that it is real. It’s real when he wakes up on his own, and when he sees the half-empty box of cereal in his cabinet, because it’s the one Louis likes. Zayn is sure it must be stale by now._

_Weeks have passed since he found out, but he hasn’t told anyone. He knows people must be worried, especially his parents, since he hasn’t returned any of their calls; he limited himself to texts. Zayn doesn’t trust his voice, which is also why he hasn’t visited them for weeks. Or Liam._

_Zayn is currently sitting on the lonely chair in his tiny kitchen, staring down at the objects placed on the table. The key to Louis’ house, and a few other of his ex’s belongings. Zayn should bring them back, but he swore never to return there. He’ll mail them instead. If he can let go of them._

_The sound of the doorbell prompts him to move, slowly at first but then faster, because what if? When he opens his door and sees it’s his mother, he’s taken over by a rush of guilt and sadness. She looks cross and worried at the same time, the way only mothers can look at their sons who haven’t really contacted them in weeks._

_‘’Hi mum,’’ he greets her and opens the door further as an invitation into his tiny living area._

_She enters and looks him up and down, pursing her lips. ‘’You should come home so I can cook you a proper meal.’’_

_‘’Yes, mum.’’ They sit down on the small sofa placed against the wall, Zayn awkwardly fidgeting with the sleeve of his sweater._

_‘’Darling, what’s going on?’’ she starts, taking his hand and squeezing it softly. ‘’We’re worried about you. Liam, too.’’_

_‘’He called?’’ Zayn doesn’t know what to do with that information._

_‘’He did, unlike you.’’_

_He looks at her expression carefully and sees the genuine fear, which hurts because he’s the cause of that. This isn’t what he wants. It’s time._

_‘’Louis and I broke up.’’ That is the first time he said it out loud, and it’s like his own words press down on his ears and are making his vision swim - then he realises he’s crying._

_‘’Oh sunshine, what happened?’’ his mother asks, tightening her grip on his hand. Zayn looks at her through the blurriness and takes a deep breath before launching into his story. It takes him long enough, but she’s ever so patient and coaches him through it. By the time he’s finished, the tears stopped flowing._

_‘’I’m sorry,’’ he apologises, because he feels like he’s been a bad son._

_She shakes her head and stands up. ‘’Don’t apologise. Come on.’’ Zayn follows her order and gets up from the sofa. ‘’Stand tall, darling.’’_

_‘’What are you-’’_

_‘’Stand tall, and don’t ever let a man walk over you like that again. Do not waste any more of your tears on him, and please call Liam. You’ll need your best friend.’’_

_Zayn takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. ‘’I will. Thanks, mum.’’_

_‘’No need to thank me,’’ she says and engulfs him in a tight hug. ‘’Just know that I love you.’’_

_As if there was ever a doubt._

 

Zayn knows he should be cautious, but he also doesn’t want to be _too_ cautious and forget to live. It’s difficult to find a balance between the two.

‘’I’ll get out of your hair, then. Get some rest,’’ his mother orders and ruffles his hair on her way out. When the door closes, Zayn quickly tidies his bed and slips under the covers.

There are things he should consider, possible outcomes to questions he doesn’t know yet. Backwards thinking, it is. What should he ask Harry to avoid making a fool of himself? _When_ should he ask Harry? Zayn wants to know what they are and where they’re headed, yet he’s afraid to find out. So, for now, he’ll postpone it. Enjoy what he can get, while he can get it.

If only he could stop worrying in the meantime.

 

***

 

The following evening things haven’t improved very much. Zayn can’t seem to focus on whatever he’s doing, and he’s afraid Harry is catching up on it, if the worried glances are anything to go by. Yet again Zayn shifts on the bed, feeling fidgety.

‘’I know what you need,’’ Harry talks through the film playing on his laptop, the one _he_ chose. Zayn can’t remember the name, but he agreed because he just wants to spend time with Harry.

‘’Yeah?’’ Zayn asks without lifting his head from Harry’s shoulder or taking his gaze off the screen.  Not that he’s really watching; he’s too distracted.

‘’A relaxing bath.’’

‘’Why?’’

Harry sighs and closes the laptop, removing it from his lap and placing it on his bedside table. ‘’Because you seem tense. You need to unwind, is all.’’

‘’You’re just trying to get me naked,’’ Zayn jokes, lifting his head so he can look at a smiling Harry.

‘’There’s also that. Come on, it’s a great idea!’’ Now he’s pouting, and Zayn knows that Harry knows he can’t resist that.

‘’Fine. You _are_ joining me, right?’’ Zayn stretches languidly, smiling when he catches Harry looking at the bit where he knows his shirt rides up.

‘’I am. Wait here,’’ Harry orders him, but Zayn wasn’t planning on moving just yet, anyway. He lets himself slide down the bed until his head is resting on a pillow, the ceiling the only thing in view. Sounds of running water drift through the air, and for a moment Zayn closes his eyes, focusing on Harry’s footsteps.

Zayn tries to think of how this could be normal to them; taking a bath together. He knows they’ve skipped a number of steps, yet it doesn’t feel that way. Whatever they do feels right, and he honestly can’t remember the last time that has been the case. They seem to just work. Or maybe it’s Harry, maybe he ‘just works’ with everyone. It shouldn’t matter, though, because right now he’s with Zayn.

‘’Water’s ready!’’ Harry announces, and Zayn sighs before getting off the bed and making his way over to the bathroom. He pauses in the doorway, notices Harry’s put his hair up in a bun and a warm citrus-like scent filling the room. ‘’Only had oil, so no bubbles.’’

‘’I don’t mind,’’ Zayn says, closing the door behind him. Even though they’re alone, he still likes the feeling of privacy. He watches Harry slip out of his briefs until he’s all skin, pale and smooth, his tattoos somehow standing out even more in the dim lighting. It doesn’t take long for Zayn to take off his own clothes, mostly because he can _feel_ Harry staring at every part of him.

The water rises a few inches when they both get in on opposite ends, their knees knocking together as they try to get situated in the incredibly small bath, but when they do, Zayn knows what Harry meant.

At first he expected it to be anything but relaxing; cramming himself in a small bath with another person, being surrounded by walls and the hot, suffocating water. Honestly, the temperature is perfect. It’s not scorching, actually feels more like a warm blanket being draped over him. And then there’s the smell and calming sound of water slightly sloshing around when one of them moves. It’s good.

‘’Zayn?’’ Harry’s voice is low, nearing a whisper.

‘’Shh, no talking.’’ Zayn doesn’t know when exactly he closed his eyes, but it doesn’t matter because he just wants to rest his head back and enjoy this. He could, if it wasn’t for the incredibly uncomfortable position. Again, small bath.

‘’Zayn, just come here,’’ Harry sighs, and when Zayn raises his head and looks at him, he sees Harry’s got his arms open. It takes Zayn a moment to consider the offer, but then he decides it’s a good idea. At least he’ll be able to stretch his legs, so he clumsily makes his way over to Harry and settles against his chest while trying to ignore a certain part of Harry pressed against his back.

‘’Better,’’ Zayn admits, letting his head rest against Harry’s shoulder. He hums when a pair of arms circle around him, followed by a kiss pressed to his temple.

‘’What are you thinking?’’ Harry whispers in his ear, tugging at the lobe with his teeth.

‘’Now?’’

Harry kisses down the side of his neck, tightening his hold on Zayn. ‘’Or now.’’

‘’I think you know,’’ Zayn chuckles, biting on his lip when Harry’s hands trail from his chest down to the hairs below his navel.

A finger tilts Zayn’s head to the side, so he’s looking up into Harry’s eyes, dark and heavy-lidded. ‘’I think I do,’’ Harry murmurs, and kisses him.

Zayn automatically pushes backwards into Harry, trying to get a better angle as he opens his mouth and tries to deepen the kiss. It’s difficult, and he’s distracted by Harry’s hand slowly brushing up and down his hardening dick. He drops his head, looks down at the movement of Harry’s hand and the water that’s washing over him.

‘’What happened to a relaxing bath?’’ Zayn quips, feeling his breath stutter when Harry wraps a firm hand around his cock and bites at the junction of his neck and shoulder.

‘’Said you needed to unwind, didn’t I?’’

Zayn licks his lips, eyes fluttering closed. ‘’This been your plan all along?’’ he asks, surprised he even managed to say anything at all.

‘’Maybe.’’ Harry’s chuckle vibrates through his chest and shakes them enough for Zayn to feel the erection pressing against his back. Then, he gets an idea.

With as much willpower as he can muster, he pushes away from Harry. ‘’Well, change of plan, then.’’ Zayn turns around while trying not to spill any water and leans forward, holding onto the edges of the tub.

They’re inches away from each other, the air between them slowly shrinking until it feels like there’s nothing left but the two of them, pressed against each other and frantically kissing, their hands trying to grab onto slippery skin. He doesn’t care about the water anymore or if it’ll spill out of the tub or splash against the walls. Zayn has one hand on Harry’s jaw, feels the movement it makes as he sucks on Zayn’s bottom lip, teasing it with a bite afterward, and lets the other hand run its course over Harry’s body; tugging at a nipple or skimming his side with a feather-light touch.

‘’Wanna suck you off,’’ Zayn says, surprising even himself. Harry moans into his mouth, which he takes as an approval, so he wraps his arms around Harry and lifts him onto the edge of the bathtub, knocking a bottle of shampoo to the floor. Zayn places his hands against the wall behind Harry and kisses down his neck, sucking a bruise onto his skin.

‘’ _Fuck_.’’ Harry’s breathless swear spurs him on, and he quickly makes his way down until he’s on his knees, between Harry’s legs. First he places small kisses on the inside of Harry’s thighs, smiling when he feels the muscles tensing. ‘’Stop teasing already,’’ Harry groans, holding onto Zayn’s shoulder as he eventually moves closer.

Zayn looks up through his lashes, wanting to see Harry’s response. ‘’As you wish,’’ he says and licks a stripe up Harry’s already hard dick. It twitches against his lips, and Zayn swirls his tongue around the tip before taking it in his mouth. He feels like all his senses have been invaded by Harry, like he’s the only thing Zayn can feel, taste and smell.

Harry’s heavy breathing fills the air, mixed with sloshing sounds of water when he lifts one of his legs up on Zayn’s shoulder, causing him to pull away.

‘’Can I try something?’’ Zayn asks, continuing to press tiny kisses on Harry’s abdomen as he waits for an answer.

‘’Sure. Anything,’’ Harry sighs in response, and when Zayn looks up at him he sees his eyes are closed, plump lips parting with each heavy exhale. Hesitatingly, Zayn reaches up with his fingers, splaying them against Harry’s mouth before slipping them in. Immediately Harry closes his lips around them, sucking and getting them wet with saliva.

Slowly, he trails his fingers down, pressing against Harry’s hole while he lets his mouth run over Harry’s dick. There’s a whimper, followed by an intake of breath when Zayn finally pushes in with one finger and swallows down Harry’s cock at the same time.

‘’ _Shitfuckokay_ ,’’ Harry curses, digging his heel into Zayn’s back. It’s just on the edge of painful, but only makes Zayn’s own dick jump in response, because he never thought pleasuring someone else could make him feel this good. He continues like this, sloppily sucking Harry off and searching with his finger for the spot that he _knows_ will drive Harry crazy. It doesn’t take long.

The response is immediate, Harry’s fingers flying into Zayn’s hair, holding on tightly. ‘’I’m gonna,’’ is the only thing Harry manages to pant before his muscles contract and his breath rushes out of him with a groan. Zayn lets the salty liquid run down his chin as he milks Harry out across his tongue, while he quickly fists his own cock to finally get the relief he needs. It only takes a few strokes before he bursts, coming across his hand and in the water.

‘’You look like a hot mess,’’ Harry laughs, wiping Zayn’s chin with his thumb.

‘’Feel like one.’’ He looks up at Harry, melts into the palm he presses against Zayn’s face.

‘’Let’s clean up and go to bed, yea?’’

It’s the way Harry says it; like it’s normal for them, as if they’ve been doing this for years. As if the look he’s giving Zayn right now is something he gives him every day and every moment, something he doesn’t realise he’s doing anymore because it’s just so natural for them. Zayn’s afraid to blink, doesn’t want to miss a single moment for fear of it being the last.

There’s a tight feeling in his chest, like a string being pulled tight. It makes him nauseous, and he suddenly realises what it _might_ be, but it’s too soon. Entirely too soon. So what he does is clear his throat, going back to safer thoughts like sleep, pillow, and blankets.

But it doesn’t help, not now he knows he’s becoming attached and Harry’s the one pulling the string.

‘’Yeah,’’ Zayn says, allowing himself this one thing. He just has to go with it, because even if he might not like their destination, he sure as hell is going to enjoy the journey.

 

***

 

A tickling sensation pulls him out of his slumber, and Zayn wants to stretch, but soon discovers he is unable to. There is a warm weight pressing him down, going along the length of his back and around his right leg. With great difficulty he lifts his head so he can peek over his shoulder, seeing Harry’s head resting on his shoulder blade, his soft exhales brushing over the back of his neck. The weight is explained when he sees Harry is practically wrapped around him

Zayn lets his head sink back into the pillow. ‘’Harreh,’’ he grunts, trying to shake the boy off him, ‘’You’re squashing me.’’

Harry stirs a tiny bit, tightening his hold on Zayn. ‘’’M comftbwl,’’ he mumbles.

‘’Can’t hear you.’’

‘’I’m comfortable,’’ Harry sighs, rolling off Zayn. ‘’Or I was.’’

Zayn rolls onto his side so he can look at Harry. ‘’Well, you can get comfortable again. Just not on top of me.’’

‘’Really? You don’t like having me on top of you?’’ Harry asks, wiggling his eyebrows. Zayn just groans, because it’s too early for this. He isn’t nearly awake enough yet to deal with Harry’s humour.

‘’You’re dirty,’’ is what he says, although it loses some of its crudeness when Zayn reaches out to softly stroke some curls out of Harry’s face.

Harry leans into the touch, closing his eyes. ‘’I know you are, too. Just don’t say it out loud.’’ Of course he’s right, but Zayn stays perfectly quiet and just keeps stroking Harry’s hair, who is very nearly purring.

‘’You’re like a cat,’’ Zayn points out, feeling a smile creep up on his face when Harry inches forward and tucks his head under Zayn’s chin.

‘’Am I?’’ He yawns and starts nosing Zayn’s jaw, who circles his arms around Harry and presses a kiss to the top of his head.

‘’Kind of.’’ The silence that follows is heavy, because the air feels heavy. Heavy in the way that even the thought of talking or lifting a limb becomes tiring. Why would they? Zayn for one is perfectly content stroking Harry’s hair, breathing in the scent that still bears traces of the shampoo they used after their bath the previous night. Taking a shower had been kind of necessary.

‘’We shouldn’t fall asleep again,’’ Harry mumbles, tugging at Zayn’s arm. ‘’Got plans for today.’’

‘’ _Hmm_ , with?’’

‘’You, silly.’’ Harry untangles himself from Zayn’s grasp and stretches after stumbling out of bed. ‘’I’m positive you’ll like them.’’

Zayn snorts. ‘’Like the last time?’’ When there’s no response, he looks up to see a pouting Harry. ‘’Alright, _fine_.’’

‘’Great! Now get out of bed, you lazy bum,’’ Harry orders and grabs the duvet, fanning it up and down.

‘’That’s _cold_ , you arsehole!’’ Zayn swears loudly, hurrying out of bed so he can quickly put on a shirt and pants. Harry just shrugs and disappears inside the bathroom while Zayn eyes the bed longingly.

Just as he’s considering lying back down for just a minute, Harry’s voice can be heard from the bathroom: ‘’Don’t you dare!’’

He knows Zayn too well, already.

 

They’re waiting in line for the chair lift, which is not what Zayn was expecting. Honestly, he thought Harry was going to make him partake in another possibly life-threatening activity, but he's glad at least this one doesn't require him to be active. So it's just life-threatening, really. If he falls off. Admittedly, it doesn't look entirely safe.

"You're not worrying, are you?" Harry's voice cuts through his inner monologue. "It's a scenic chairlift ride, nothing can happen."

"Right," is Zayn's curt reply.

Harry sighs. " _If_ you fall, which is very unlikely, it's not that far down. Plus, the snow will catch you."

Zayn pulls a face. "That's reassuring?"

"I don't know? The snow looks soft."

"Yea? It also looks like it would taste good, but that doesn't mean I want to try it any time soon," Zayn fires back, feeling himself become more agitated.

"Who says you'll fall down face first?" Harry quips, nudging Zayn with his elbow.

"I could punch you, but there are children watching, and I don't want to set a bad example."

Harry snorts. "How considerate of you."

"I try."

"Some people don't have to try."

"Now you've hurt my feelings," Zayn whines, pretending to wipe away a fake tear.

"Wasn't aware you had any," Harry tries to keep a straight face, but smiles eventually. "I'm on a roll!"

"Well, you ruined it just there," Zayn says, patting him on the shoulder. The line has moved forward, and now it's their turn to take a seat. Bickering with Harry actually managed to calm Zayn down somewhat. Until his feet are no longer touching the ground.

They start the tragically slow climb, which Zayn has to admit isn't so scary. For now all he can see is the white blanket beneath their feet, and the thinning lines of trees on either side of them. Everything looks so clean; not a human touch noticeable. If you disregard the awful noise of the chairlift.

"Alright, this isn't bad at all. It's...pretty," Zayn admits, smiling at Harry next to him.

"Figured as much. You're more of a visual guy, anyway."

"What's that?"

"Just saying, you like pretty things."

Zayn gives him a disbelieving look. "Are you calling me shallow?"

"No! You appreciate things not many people do?" Harry tries, but has to duck down when Zayn swings at his head with his fist.

"That was a question, you idiot. Not good enough," Zayn laughs at Harry's grimace. "I won't push you off the lift, don't worry."

"Good, now let's enjoy the view," Harry sighs, letting himself sink into Zayn's side.

"I am," Zayn says, looking down at Harry.

Harry rolls his eyes and pulls Zayn's arm around him so he can snuggle further into his side. "Just do as I say."

Zayn hums, kissing Harry's cheek and directing his gaze to what's in front of him. What would make this even better is a soundtrack. Some soothing music as they glide along the snow-covered trees. Their branches are so long Zayn can almost reach them.

When he looks up towards where they're going, he can spot a large wooden building. "What's that?" he asks Harry.

"Restaurant," Harry pauses before continuing, "We could have lunch there?"

Zayn nods. "Sounds good." He's not _really_ hungry, but he'd like to enjoy the view for as long as he can.

The lift creaks, and the climb starts to become less steep. Zayn has to blink against the sun now there are barely any trees around to block the light for them. The ground once more starts getting closer to their feet, and before he knows it they've reached the top and are hurrying out of their lift.

Zayn turns around, and is stunned by the view.

Mountains. Miles and miles of mountains, some covered in snow and others not so much. The clouds are rolling by in slow motion, passing over them and scattering the sun's rays against the mountainsides. Suddenly Zayn wishes he could stay here until sundown, when the mountain would be cast in a halo of light and everything goes golden. He can almost see it.

"Let's take a photo together," Harry says, dragging Zayn by the sleeve so the only view behind them is the mountains. Zayn watches as he removes his glove and takes out his phone. "Bloody cold," Harry curses and selects the front-facing camera.

They press their cheeks together so they can get as much of the background in the shot as possible, and take multiple photos. Some with genuine smiles, others with silly faces, and in the last one with their lips locked together. Harry pockets his phone but keeps kissing Zayn, pulling him closer and pressing his gloveless hand against Zayn's cheek.

Zayn feels like he can't be far off from heaven.

 

***

 

" _Sounds like you two are doing great_ ," Liam's voice sounds through the speaker on Zayn's phone. It's almost midnight and Zayn is on his balcony, wrapped tightly in a blanket. Doniya is asleep and he didn't want to wake her.

Zayn looks down at the phone perched on his lap. "Yeah, but I'm leaving in like two days."

" _So what's your plan?_ " Liam asks.

"Do I need one?"

" _I mean, it won't hurt._ "

Zayn hesitates for a moment, gazing at the stars gathered above him. If only all the answers he needs would be written in the sky. "I guess, but what if he has a different plan? Maybe he doesn't have any plans at all-"

" _Zayn-_ ".

"And he just thinks this is some kind of-"

" _Zayn! Just listen goddamnit,_ " Liam yells through the phone.

"Calm down, Payno."

Liam huffs. " _I am calm, but you're being ridiculous. Before you interrupt, just listen to what I have to say, okay?_ " There's a long silence in which Zayn isn't sure what's expected of him, until Liam barks at him through the phone. " _Okay?!_ "

"Yes! I'll listen," he promises.

" _Good,_ " Liam says and takes a deep breath. " _You're scared. Have been ever since Louis. You're scared of reading things the wrong way, like you apparently think is what happened with him. You're scared of misunderstanding and getting hurt all over again, but I'm telling you Zayn, this isn't Louis. It would be unfair to treat Harry like he is._ "

"But I don't want to ruin what we have," Zayn almost whispers, feeling strangely vulnerable. Liam reads Zayn so easily, like he's as open as the sky and handing him an answer with every star he puts up. He wonders what other things Liam knows about.

" _Then that's your plan; say nothing until you absolutely have to. It's risky, but it's a plan._ "

Zayn goes over it in his head, but decides it's probably the best thing to do. "Then I've got a plan, I think. Thank you, Liam."

" _Just doing my job as a best friend,_ " he says, but Zayn knows he's smiling.

"Love you, man."

" _Alright, you sap. Love you, too. Night._ "

Zayn listens to the high-pitched tone after Liam hangs up, thinking about the conversation they just had. Despite some of the bad things that may have happened in his life, he's still pretty damn lucky.

 

***

 

Mornings have become Zayn's favourite thing. Mornings with Harry, to be more specific. Zayn is caught up in one of those rare moments in which he's awake before Harry. This time it's his turn to appreciate the sleeping person next to him, who is currently lying on his stomach, his arms hidden under the pillow.

Just as Zayn is contemplating whether he could kiss him without waking him up, there's a loud snore. Harry jolts awake, gazing up at Zayn with half-closed eyes and a stupid frown on his face.

"Okay, _that_ was not cute," Zayn points out, giving him a disbelieving look.

Harry looks confused, blinking slowly. "What? You're calling _me_ not cute?"

"Yes. Believe me, I never thought those words would leave my mouth, but here I am, wondering how something so beautiful can make such an awful noise," Zayn explains and tries to keep in his laughter at seeing Harry's sour expression.

"Well, you know what's not cute? Your morning breath!" Harry snaps, turning his back to Zayn, who is currently checking his breath with a grimace.

"It's not that bad! Admit it." Zayn pulls at Harry's shoulder so he can blow in his face. "Just tell me."

Harry pushes at Zayn, kicking the duvet off himself so he can jump out of bed. "Are you trying to kill me?" He yells, hands placed on his hips.

Zayn looks at him with a shocked expression before he bursts out laughing, grabbing his stomach and rolling around on the bed. Harry jumps back on the bed, taking a pillow and hitting Zayn with it repeatedly. They struggle for a while, Zayn trying to take the pillow from Harry, who is now straddling him. Eventually Zayn manages to get the pillow from Harry's grip and across the bed, causing Harry to fall forward.

Both breathing heavily, they stare at each other. There's tension in the air, caged and raging against its confinement, until it bursts free. When they start kissing, it's hurried, all teeth and tongue and hands groping where they can reach.

Harry starts kissing down Zayn's body, gentle nips and licks while his hands brush over the tanned lad's skin. Then abruptly, he stops.

"What's wrong?" Zayn questions, reaching for Harry's hand.

Harry meets his gaze, looking unsure. "I'd like to do more."

"More?"

"You know...take it a step further."

Zayn's breath catches in his throat, his face flushing. "Like, you want to fuck me? Or me you?"

Harry seems to think for a moment, biting on his bottom lip. "You me. I'd like that, unless you're not up for it?"

"No! I'm up for it. Quite literally, too," Zayn adds, looking down at himself.

"I can see that," Harry says, looking down at Zayn's erection. "Impressive. That just from talking?" he asks, cupping his hand over it and squeezing when Zayn doesn't reply. "You like talking? Dirty talk?" Harry whispers, leaning forward so he can press a series of kisses along the line of Zayn's underwear.

"I guess," Zayn breathes, swallowing heavily. He can see a wet patch in his underwear where he started leaking already. There is so much pent up energy in him he's afraid he might burst, and Harry rubbing him through the fabric isn't helping. Zayn's hips buck up involuntarily, and Harry quickly removes his hand.

"I'll prep myself, it's quicker," Harry says, moving off Zayn to gather lube and condoms from the nightstand.

"Someone's impatient," Zayn chuckles, watching with hungry eyes how Harry gets out of his underwear and lies down next to him.

Harry pops the cap of the lube, squeezing some on his fingers. "Thought you might also enjoy the view," he reasons, spreading his legs for easier access.

"You sure you don't want me to-"

"Zayn," Harry interrupts, hissing when he inserts a finger in himself. "Get naked. Now." Zayn follows his order, kicking his underwear off. His cock is heavy on his stomach, swollen and leaking from the tip. He catches Harry looking at it, so Zayn wraps his hand around his dick and starts jacking off slowly while his own eyes travel down Harry's body, where he's already up to two fingers in himself.

There's sweat gathering on Harry's brow, his lips red from being bitten on so much. He arches his back, moaning when he inserts a third finger. Zayn is following every movement, every single muscle rippling under Harry's skin.

"Put on a condom," Harry says, voice deep. "Gonna ride you."

Zayn watches for another moment, licking his lips before he takes a condom from the box and carefully slides it over his erection. He lies there in anticipation, watching as Harry gets up on his knees and swings one leg over Zayn so he's straddling his legs. Just to be sure, Harry applies lube to Zayn's cock before hovering over it.

"Ready?" Harry asks, looking down into Zayn's eyes.

"Yeah," is all Zayn gets to say before Harry slowly sinks down until Zayn is fully sheathed inside him. He has to resist the urge to buck up into him, so he just holds onto Harry's hips tightly.

It feels tight and hot and Zayn's mind is spinning, with Harry clear in the centre. Harry rolls his hips, closing his eyes and letting his mouth fall open.

"Fuck," Zayn curses, letting his hands travel to Harry's arse where he can feel the movement better, every squeeze of the muscles.

"Feels good?" Harry asks, slightly out of breath.

"Yeah, so good," Zayn pants, moaning when Harry lifts himself up and sinks down again, their skin slapping together.

"Tell me," Harry demands, repeating his previous movement.

"You feel so fucking good," Zayn grunts, feeling his grip tighten on Harry, his entire body on fire.

"Fuck me, Zayn." Harry lets himself fall forward, arms caging Zayn's head. Zayn can feel Harry's legs shaking, so he kisses him filthily, wrapping his arms around Harry's torso. He bends his knees and puts his feet down on the bed so he can slowly thrust up into Harry.

"You close?" Zayn asks, mouthing along Harry's jaw, who nods and moans in response. Zayn takes that as his cue to increase his pace, breath becoming more laboured by the second.

"Harder," Harry manages to grunt, going limp in Zayn's arms. " _Oh, fuck_." Zayn fucks rapidly up into him, but he can feel his strength waning as the pleasure begins to reach the point where he feels like he might burst.

He can't see anything from Harry's hair falling into his face, so he closes his eyes and focuses on the sensations; Harry's warm weight on top of him, the heat, their sweat-slicked bodies sliding together every time Zayn thrusts into Harry. Until it becomes too much.

Harry comes first, surprisingly, gasping Zayn's name and painting their stomachs white. Zayn follows soon after, biting down on Harry's shoulder to muffle his moans. A few moments pass as they both try to steady their breathing, focusing on each other's rapidly beating hearts.

Slowly, Harry moves off Zayn to lie down next to him. Through the gap in the curtains, a faint ray of sunshine manages to creep into the room. Zayn feels at peace, tired in the best way and far away from the outside world.

Harry snuggles up against his side, placing his chin on Zayn's shoulder. "Your breath isn't the only thing that smells now."

"I was having a moment," Zayn complains, becoming more aware of the drying come on his stomach. Even if he feels gross, he can't be bothered to move.

"I don't care," Harry whispers, skimming his fingers over Zayn's side. "About the smell, I mean."

"Your snoring doesn't bother me."

"Good to know," Harry says and slings his arm over Zayn, carefully avoiding the mess.

They lie there for what feels like a minute, and Zayn is yet again reminded how time speeds up when you don't want it to. His hand is starting to cramp from carding it through Harry's hair and despite Harry being an amazing source of heat, he's starting to grow cold.

"We need to take a shower," Zayn sighs.

Harry's quiet for a moment. "You're leaving in a few hours," he says abruptly.

"Yeah." Now is as good a time as any to ask the question he needs to ask, but Zayn can't speak. His words get stuck in his throat, held just out of reach. Perhaps it's not quite the right time yet. "I know."

 

***

 

Folding clothes has never been his favourite thing to do, but Zayn knows it's the only way he'll get his things to fit in his suitcase. Doniya is off helping their sisters pack, which leaves him alone in their room.

There are things worse than rejection. He should know, because he's been through one of them, although it feels more the other way around; like it went straight _through_ him. Becoming a different person is inevitable, like he's been taught many times.

But there is a difference. Louis forced him through a change, one he wasn't counting on. It went like a car slipping on ice. Zayn didn't know which way to turn the wheel, and when it finally stopped and he stood still, he promised himself he'd never get in a car again.

Fat load of good that did.

No, but Harry is different. He never forced Zayn into anything and has always been there to offer his help, which is what Zayn needs again. Without Harry's directions, he doesn't know where to start. The frustrating part about that? Harry doesn't know Zayn needs them. Not these specific ones.

Zayn drops his thoughts when there's knocking on the door, leaving a shirt half folded on the bed as he goes to answer the door.

It's Harry, and he's holding a sweater. "Hey."

"Hi," Zayn says, stepping back to let him in. "Did I forget something?"

"Sort of?" he starts hesitatingly. "I thought you should have this." He holds out the sweater and when Zayn takes it he sees it's Harry's favourite blue knitted one.

"But this is your favourite." Zayn doesn't understand.

"I know, that's why you should have it. It's not _me_ , but it's the next best thing, until I can like, come over." Harry pauses. "The weekends should be fine, unless you're too busy?"

And these are just the directions Zayn needs.

"Wait, so you wanna...keep going?"

Harry gives him a confused look. "Of course. What, you don't?"

"I do! I just thought, eh- nevermind." Zayn suddenly feels so _stupid_ , especially when Harry starts laughing.

"You thought I wasn't being serious about this or something?" he asks, stepping forward so he can tilt Zayn's chin up, who just shrugs and averts his gaze from Harry's eyes.

Zayn looks at him. "Maybe."

"Let me clear this up." He takes a deep breath. "Do you want to be my boyfriend?"

Never did Zayn expect he would be so sure of something. "Yes."

"That's settled, then," Harry concludes before leaning in and kissing Zayn. The sweater falls to the ground as Zayn loops his arms around Harry's neck and presses himself up against him. It feels like new beginnings and hope and _happiness_.

So with Harry he has a clean slate, a blank canvas, and together they will make the best work of art the world has ever seen.

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr @lotusandrose


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